


A Promise Written in Gold

by Aurum_Auri



Series: A Cat of A Different Color [1]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Cat Ears, First Time, Katsuki Yuuri's Insecurity, M/M, Pining, Slight Loveless AU, Smut, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates, That's right it has porn now, Victor finds the posters, trolling the media
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-06
Updated: 2017-03-24
Packaged: 2018-09-28 14:13:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 24,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10113437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aurum_Auri/pseuds/Aurum_Auri
Summary: At 23, Yuuri was one of the few dime-a-dozen skaters still cursed with his pair of cat's ears and tail, a mark of how childish and immature he was compared to everyone else. Until he lost them, he would never be considered an adult. But Yuuri didn't care. He really didn't.At least, that was what he told himself when he woke up after his failure at the Grand Prix. It was what he told himself when Victor Nikiforov appeared in the onsen, offering to be his coach. And it was what he told himself as he found himself falling in love.AU where everything is mostly the same except everyone is born with cat's ears, which they lose after having sex, and some people have true names they share with a soulmate. Based loosely on Loveless.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Not like we need another soulmate AU, but I couldn't resist.

Ten years ago, Yuuri, Yuko, and Takeshi had been skating around Ice Castle Hasetsu, when the exact conversation of true names had come up.  
  
"Actually, my name's already appeared," Yuko said slyly, grinning at Yuuri. Her pointed cat’s ears, the same warm brown as her hair, flicked with a bit of mischief.  
  
"Whoa, really?" Yuuri asked, eyes wide and staring. True names appeared only in the proximity of one's soulmate, and to find it so young was both a blessing and a curse. He watched Yuko turn another of Victor's spins before she answered.  
  
"Yup. But my name's top secret. I won't tell anyone!"  
  
"She's probably lying," Takeshi snorted. He and Yuuri were cutting figures in the ice. It had become some kind of unspoken competition between the two to see who could make them neater, more closely overlapped. Yuuri was winning, narrowly.  
  
"Am not!" Yuko said, sticking her tongue out. "It's on my arm, right here!" She tugged on her sleeve to indicate the spot.  
  
Takeshi paused. "Really? What..." He paused his figures, and so did Yuuri.

Takeshi blinked a few times, like the words were gone. Like the puzzle was missing a piece that had just been in his hands. He was looking at Yuko now as though she'd suddenly gained the power to rip the very sun from the sky, and the fear and awe that came from that was greater than any mortal emotions could ever measure up to. Even his expressive ears had stilled, the rounded black points tipping back with nerves, his short tail bushing. He whispered, softly, "Natsukashii?"  
  
Yuko froze, cheeks hollowing as she sucked in a breath. "How do you know that?" She rolled the sleeve up, and the kanji and kana were there, sharp and black, on the inside of her forearm. Takeshi rolled back his sleeve, showing the mark's mirror on his own skin.  
  
It was a word without a direct English translation. Nostalgic was a close cut, but not perfect. Nostalgia implied pain. A desire to return to those from memories of the past. With natsukashii, there was only joy on the look backwards, a love for the past that mirrored the love of the present.  
  
Names were often a representation of a pair, of the bond they would share. Sometimes platonic, sometimes romantic, sometimes something more. A name like that was something deeper than the oceans, a promise of a joyful eternity.  
  
Yuuri left the rink, and the soulmates, alone that day.  
  
He didn't look back on that particular memory unhappily. There was no pain in the thought of it, as their true name seemed to symbolize so perfectly. With the two of them, there was only the comfortable presence of them, one beside the other. They lost their ears to each other, marrying after high school. Then along came the triplets, adorable little blanket-wrapped terrors, screaming for attention and lashing their tiny tails. Forever awaited the happy pair.  
  
But Yuuri... Yuuri was alone. It wasn't so bad. The world could be cruel place for those who retained their ears too long into adulthood, but it could have always been much worse.  
  
Keeping them was a childish thing. It was for those whose inexperience was as obvious as the nose on their face. A set of perfect cat ears, a tail that betrayed every childish emotion, and no sign at all of a true name.  
  
Not that he needed one. Finding a true named soulmate was rare enough to make it less of a requirement of existence and more of a promise of a permanent bond between two people. Relationships outside of names were extremely commonplace, especially with platonic names.  
  
The thing of it, though, boiled down to one simple problem. Yuuri was old enough to drink in America. He attended University. He was, by all other estimations of the word, an adult. But as long as he retained the cat ears and the short bobtail, he was treated differently.  
  
Really, Yuuri didn't care what the other students of his university thought of him. He didn't. Fears of intimacy and social anxiety aside, Yuuri was quite happy like this. Because getting rid of them in a drunken haze at a party (which Yuuri hated going to anyway) or to Phichit (to be fair, the boy had offered, thinking it would help Yuuri's anxiety) would just be lying to himself.  
  
As a figure skater, he knew he was in the public eye a bit more than the average person. Even a dime-a-dozen skater like him would have the status of his ears broadcast around the world. Getting rid of them now was equally as bad as keeping them was.  
  
It would be... mildly problematic for Yuuri to one day lose his ears for no explainable reason. He might have been a no-name skater barely certified by the JSF, but his ears were all he had to cling to. The scraps of recognition he got from them were all Yuuri could rely on.  
  
If he wanted to skate the same ice as the great Victor Nikiforov someday, to be recognized as an equal to his idol, at least a tiny degree of recognition would be necessary. Keeping his ears this long for that reason alone felt like a cheap, flimsy excuse, even to him. But it got Yuuri through the first four years of university in Detroit easily enough.  
  
Phichit was a good roommate. He didn't bring people back to the apartment if he could help it, he didn't complain about the endless posters of Victor's face on the walls, and he kept his hamsters' cages clean.  
  
He was also a solid 60% of Yuuri's self control and sense of worth.  
  
Phichit didn't say anything when he sat down beside Yuuri on the bed. He offered up a hamster, and the cuddly little thing settled easily enough into Yuuri's palm. It was one of the nice ones, a silver and white hamster, not the little golden asshole who liked to bite Yuuri's thumb until it bled and ran on the squeaky wheel all night.  
  
Yuuri glanced around his room with hooded eyes. His favorite Victor poster was the newest one to be released, a limited edition early run of Victor in his Stammi Vicino costume, taken during the first performance of the routine a few weeks ago. It was a flattering picture, some combination of the expression on his face, the complementary color of the costume against his skin, and the gleam of lights in his silver hair.  
  
Yuuri had gotten it in the mail yesterday, paying extra for overnight shipping, and had tacked it up almost as soon as it had been unrolled.  
  
It was in a position of honor, even nudging out Yuuri's now-second favorite poster and relegating that one to a new spot. The old one was now above his bed. It was an older one, of a younger Victor in a black costume decorated in silvery jewels.  
  
His hair had been long and he still had his ears back then, crisp points like a Russian blue. Tails were a bit of a crutch in the junior division, lending an extra bit of balance on the ice, and Victor had often kept his long, silvery tail pressed close to his back as a matter of pride.  
  
But sometimes, very rarely, he'd let it uncurl, brushing sinuously through the air when he bowed, or settled into a finishing pose. Of course, Victor had shed his ears and tail early in his life. He hadn't even been eighteen yet, causing a bit of a stir when Victor refused to elaborate on who had taken them. All he'd offered was a wink and a smile. A few years later, the hair had gone too.  
  
Now, in the senior division, it was rare to see anyone with ears or a tail. If there was, they were expected to do as Victor had done, keeping it tucked close to their bodies. Failure to do so would result in technical penalties. Yuuri's little bobtail had no issues, fortunately. Phichit, wordly as he was, didn't have that problem.  
  
Yuuri leaned against Phichit, letting out a ragged sigh.  
  
"I can't do this."  
  
"You can," Phichit said firmly. "You've already medaled in two events. Do it again, and the Grand Prix Final is yours." Phichit patted his shoulder and left with his hamsters.  
  
Somewhere along the way, Yuuri had made it to the finals. He picked his suitcase and flew out of Detroit for the Grand Prix Finals. How he accomplished that was anyone's guess. He didn't belong, and he could feel it in the way people stared at him as he passed. He'd seen it in the eyes of those who had missed the podium because Yuuri had somehow taken a spot by some fluke. This was a mistake.  
  
The stress of it all was eating him alive.  
  
He checked in and settled in for a quiet night of self-love, hoping it would help tone down how keyed up his nerves were making him. It didn't do anything for the pointed ears. Only another person could do that. In Yuuri's selfish, foolish dreams, it was always Victor. It had always been Victor.  
  
It seemed almost poetically fitting, having the news of Vicchan arrive late that night. Yuuri was almost feeling confident, for a moment, like this was something he could manage.  
  
In one sentence, Yuuri knew. He knew, and there was nothing he could do to stop the tide of emotion. It didn't take a genius to see the effect it had on him the next morning. His pointed ears drooped, nearly flat to his head. His little tail hung limp between his legs, like a dead thing. But there was no Phichit here to provide comfort, and Celestino was at a loss to proved true comfort.  
  
Yuuri was just a kid. Despite his age, despite his experience, in spite of it all, Yuuri was not the adult he wished he was, and everyone could see it. All Yuuri could do was grieve, as well as butcher his entire performance. The free skate the next day was even worse.  
  
At the end of it all, Celestino forced him to put on his suit, determined that, 'at least he can relax a little with his fellow skaters', and dragged Yuuri into the banquet hall.  
  
Yuuri turned to the champagne, and he hid in his corner the rest of the night. No one wanted to talk to a childish loser like him, and Yuuri wasn't going to make them.  
  
It was a boring affair. The answer to that was another glass of bubbly.

* * *

Yuuri awoke the following morning with a blistering headache and a tongue like sandpaper. Ink was smeared down his arm. Curiously, he was wearing nothing but his boxer briefs. He flicked his tail and rubbed at his aching skull, focusing the pressure at his temples for a moment before turning it to the knots behind his pointed ears.  
  
He needed a shower before his flight. There was no doubt about that.  
  
Filled with self-loathing and a feeling of 'I can't believe I let everyone down like that', Yuuri returned to Detroit.  
  
Everything was pretty par for the course, as far as Yuuri's life was concerned. Any trace of hope destroyed, all happiness obliterated, and Yuuri was left in a dark pit of eating too much and skating too little.  
  
And then it got worse.  
  
As the weeks passed, Yuuri got at least a little grip on his life. He settled into spring semester, focused all that negative energy into studying. Normalcy came slowly. It was hard for it not to, wen at the very least, Yuuri was such a no name skater that the others in his university knew him better for his ears than for his failures. He found solace in one thing, and one thing alone: skating Victor's performances the way he once did with Yuko.

He skated late into the night and slept late into the morning, only waking up and getting ready for the day when Pichict bodily rolled him from his bed. As the routine became more familiar by turns, his love for skating slowly returned. He wasn’t in a good place by any means, but he was recovering.  
  
One morning, Phichit was getting testy. He wanted to shower before class too, and, "come on, Yuuri, save at least a little hot water for me?"  
  
Yuuri turned the water off and wrapped his towel around his waist, settling it comfortably just below the base of his tail. In the mirror, he could see the growing softness in his cheeks. He never had much in the way of abs, so to speak, but any trace he might have once had were long gone now. His ears flicked indignantly.  
  
He turned away, replacing his glasses on the bridge of his nose. They fogged up instantly.  
  
"Sorry, Phichit," Yuuri muttered as he passed, making room for Phichit to take the bathroom.  
  
Phichit gasped. "Yuuri." Phichit sounded some combination of angry, scandalized, and excited. "Yuuuuriiii! Why didn't you tell me!? I thought we were friends!" Phichit wailed.  
  
Yuuri turned. Everything was a fog cloud, but it was slowly clarifying now that he'd left the bathroom. He frowned. "What are you talking about?"  
  
Phichit made a strangled noise and had to clamp his hands over his mouth to keep from screaming. "You don't know. Oh my god, you don't know."  
  
"Don't know what?" Yuuri asked, starting to get a little testy. Phichit dragged him into the bathroom, sputtering.  
  
"Just look," Phichit ground out, spinning Yuuri so he had his back to the mirror.  
  
Yuuri stopped breathing. Everything stopped. The world simply ceased to exist for the span of those next few seconds. All Yuuri could do was look, twisted to see his back, struck dumb and mute by the reflection.  
  
Near the base of his spine, printed in a bold gold font, cursive in nature and glittering softly under the harsh fluorescents, was writing. Two words, so innocent above his tail. History Makers.

The old conversation from ten years ago passed through Yuuri’s head. Memories from when he, Yuko, and Takeshi discussed soulmates, and Yuuri had felt the simultaneous joy for his friends, that they were so perfectly destined for one another that even fate itself could see it, and the ache of longing that came from the small pangs of envy.

To see the printed words on his back now...

"Oh my god, Yuuri, it's so beautiful, it's so pretty, lookit!" Phichit was almost screaming now, flailing helplessly in the little bathroom beside Yuuri. "Who is it? Who's your soulmate?"  
  
Yuuri could only stare. "I don't know."

* * *

The only thought in Victor's mind when he awoke in the morning, aside from the quick decision that perhaps he should have skipped one or two of those extra glasses of champagne during the banquet, was a burning ache of longing.  
  
Yuuri Katsuki. A man Victor couldn't have.  
  
Yuri gave him a lot of shit for not knowing the man was a competitor when Victor had asked after a commemorative photo. A surprising amount of shit, actually. Little Yuri wasn't the type to care about these things. But he was also inclined to yell at Victor for any little perceived fault, and so it must've seemed only natural.  
  
Victor tried to approach him, guilty after Yuri's comments, but Chris had pulled him away before he could catch the man's attention. He asked some question or another that Victor couldn't find it within himself to remember. Victor had felt a rush of warmth over his back, but nothing so strange that it made him worried.  
  
Yuuri Katsuki. One of the only skaters in men's singles who still had his ears and tail. Poking out the back of his ugly suit, Victor could see the tiny bit of fluff, the tuft of inky black fur that nestled at the base of Yuuri's spine. The ears, flat against his skull as he downed glass after glass of champagne.

And then, as the night progressed, Victor could see the way the young man’s eyes went mildly unfocused and his ears cropped up, searching, eager. On a mission. Untouched, beautiful, and innocent.  
  
At least, until he began to dance.  
  
Only one thing held Victor back. One thing kept him from asking, no, begging, Yuuri to join him in his room that night for a different sort of dance off. Victor would have done anything to be the one to claim Yuuri's ears, be the one who could say he was the first to lay with the inhumanly beautiful Yuuri Katsuki.  
  
And that was his soul mate.  
  
Yuuri's soul mate, more accurately. Because there was no question that Yuuri had one, not when the gold across his back spoke volumes about what his true name was and what his destiny entailed.  
  
History Makers. The words set Victor on fire, burning with desire at the very idea. Yes, yes, it seemed so obvious. The man danced as though he dragged the music out of his very soul and made it real.  
  
But he was bonded. With who, Victor didn't know. But the other skaters in the room had seen the words as Yuuri twisted himself around that pole, they mused quietly about the implications of the words on last place's spine. There were some half-smiles, some less than pleasant implications.  
  
Victor silenced the hungry voices in his head and helped Yuuri's coach drag the skater to his hotel room, waving off the thanks with his signature smile.  
  
He scrawled his number on Yuuri's arm, because Victor was a grown ass adult, and because Victor had, indeed, promised to be Yuuri's coach if Yuuri won the dance battle.  
  
And that was that. If Yuuri called, excellent. And if he didn't? Well, Victor was a grown ass adult. Late 20's perhaps, and still no soul mate, but he was an adult. He could handle rejection. And Victor really didn't need the distraction of playing coach in his life. Yakov would laugh him out of the rink if Victor even suggested it.  
  
When Yuuri didn't call the first day, Victor was still feeling pretty good about himself. He was flying home himself, and he was so busy that he wouldn't have been able to talk, regardless. Day two, and Victor grew a little more restless. He unpacked his suitcase, rested with Makkachin. But Yuuri had a longer flight, and probably jet lag at that.  
  
When Victor had started strutting around the locker room of the skating rink on day three, half nude and as carefree as he could make himself under the circumstances, Yuri started to sputter.  
  
"Something wrong?" Victor asked.  
  
"Nothing," Yuri spat, whirling around with unusual vehemence. He stalked out to the rink, his tail lashing the air in furious strikes.  
  
Victor shrugged and bent double, searching for a shirt.  
  
Georgi's eyes went wide. "Victor. Your name..." Victor glanced back. Georgi's eyes had taken on a misty twinkle. "Ah, you've found your soul mate."  
  
Victor found a handheld mirror. He screamed.  
  
The mirror shattered when it hit the ground, and the mess of broken glass trapped him, openly weeping tears of joy, in the locker room until someone could clean it up. He cried like Georgi after a breakup.

Yuuri Katsuki, Victor Nikiforov, History Makers. Victor loved the sound of that, more than he loved teasing Yuri about about his obsession with all things feline, more than he liked cracking jokes about Georgi's dramatics, more than he joked with Mila about her throwing Yuri around like nothing.  
  
Did Yuuri know about the match? Should Victor tell him? Did he even need to be told?  
  
When day four arrived without a call, Victor started to worry that he'd been forgotten. That Yuuri didn't want him after all. The rejection stung sharp and hot and bitter all at once.  
  
By day 38, Victor stopped worrying at all. Because Victor was a grown ass adult, after all, and despite what Yuri might suggest, he knew when he wasn't wanted, however much it hurt.

* * *

Skating for Yuko was pleasant. Coming home had been rough. Getting affectionately ribbed by Minako about still having his ears after college was the worst.  
  
When Yuuri had knelt in front of Vicchan's shrine, he'd felt only a numb sense of loneliness. Time had softened the blow, and seeing it now was just a sour taste and a gentle ache.  
  
He took all those emotions and threw them into the mix when he skated for his old friend. His ears twitched nervously in the rink, waiting with baited breath for a response to his performance. Without the cat ears, her emotions were harder to read.  
  
At long last, Yuko slammed her hands down on the side of the rink and cried. "It was as good as Victor!"  
  
The triplets wiggled their tails with gleeful vengeance as they snapped pictures of their father teasing Yuuri, and for a moment, everything seemed... right.  
  
When it was just Yuuri and Yuko alone again, she pulled him aside. "You seem different. Is everything alright?"  
  
He let the moment carry through the air, poignant and piercing, before he broke the silence. The words were hard to say. They were almost an admission of guilt, and saying them carried the weight of a death sentence. "I don't know. I'm confused."  
  
Retirement seemed like such a pleasant promise. Yuuri had a degree from an American university. Getting a job wouldn't be too hard. He'd never have to count calories again. Never slave over the ice until his feet were bleeding and his hips were stained black and blue with bruises, more like a spill of ink than actual skin.  
  
But leaving it all behind left a bitter taste in his mouth, even without the mark on his back conflating the issue.  
  
History Makers sounded nice in theory. But it was a dark prophecy, and one that could go several different ways. History to whom, Yuuri wondered, when he laid in his bed and stared at his ceiling in sleepless agony.

It wasn't just that Yuuri now had this looming over his head. It was also something he seemed to be cursed to share with someone else, someone Yuuri had met at some point in his life and would probably never meet again. Someone who would have to spend the entire rest of their life with pitiful, tailed Yuuri Katsuki as their soulmate.

"I just don't know what to do anymore."  
  
Yuko grabbed his hand. "You do what makes you happy."  
  
Yuuri blinked twice, letting the beats between them form a natural spacing for his thoughts. He felt a wave of foreign courage through the touch. Yuko had always been there. She deserved to know.  
  
"I found this while I was at school. But I don't know where or when I got it," he said. He turned his back, lifting his shirt.  
  
Yuko gasped. "Oh, Yuuri. It's amazing!"  
  
"It feels like a lie."  
  
Arms closed around him, and she shook her head fiercely. Her denial was nice.  
  
For things to get worse after all of that, it seemed like a cruel irony from a goddess of fate.  
  
Yuuri added another view to the video of him skating to Victor's program, because Yuuri loved death and the pain that came from watching his fat, tailed ass flub its way through a program about love and sex and staying together in perpetuity. There were stereotypes, lots of them in fact, about the kind of programs that people with ears should and shouldn't do. This did not match what Yuuri usually did, and for good reason.

The comments were even better. An absolute riot, really, picking on every little insecurity Yuuri held privately inside his head. Some were nice, but then again, law of averages. Someone out there had to be nice enough to lie.  
  
Yuuri hid in his room and buried his head in the pillows, feeling the unpleasant drag of fabric over the fur of his ears. Goodbye, cruel world, and all of that other nonsense.  
  
He turned his phone off, hoping to escape the world.  
  
The world did not want him to escape. As if physically manifesting all of Yuuri's regret, there had been a snowstorm in the night, covering everything in thick, white piles of ice and pure misery.  
  
His mother passed him a shovel. Yuuri took it without much more than a twitch of the ears. He pulled on a hat, wincing at the uncomfortable press against his ears, and headed for the door. A dog greeted him, a barking, precocious mess of silver grey that tackled him to the ground.  
  
"He came with a handsome foreigner," his dad said, like it was normal. Like it wasn't the absolute worst thing in all of Yuuri's existence to hear. And the pieces, unfortunately, clicked. A beat of motionlessness. It settled into his mind as a thought that, no, this did not seem to be a dream, nightmare or otherwise.  
  
Yuuri ran.  
  
He was in the bath when Yuuri found him, the towel over his head as he reclined against the rock.  
  
When Yuuri crashed through the doors, Victor Nikiforov's expression shifted. A smile spread, and he rose from the water, letting it sluice down his chiseled body. He was buck ass naked, and he tilted his head alluringly.  
  
"Hello, Yuuri! I'm going to be your coach!" And, as if the world hadn't been cruel enough already, Victor slowly turned, exposing the length of his back and the glittering of gold lettering across his spine. "And you're going to win."  
  
How many times since discovering the mark, Yuuri wondered, had he stared at it in the mirror, willing it to explain itself? How many times had he been driven to tears because the weight of the lie on his skin seemed to cause physical pain?  
  
"Y-you... your true name-" Yuuri choked. Victor took measured steps closer to Yuuri, still smiling.  
  
"Can I see, Yuuri?" he asked, twirling his finger.  
  
Yuuri was paralyzed. His idol, the man who lived on his posters for years, was asking to see the words on his back, the ones that were identical to the golden letters along Victor's own spine. Yuuri turned, every step robotic, and Victor tugged the shirt up with a pleased humm, exposing the matched words on Yuuri's skin.  
  
Yuuri glanced back, horrified, as Victor smiled. "Beautiful," Victor breathed.

* * *

This was a joke. A cruel joke. Someone had tattooed Yuuri in his sleep, or somehow convinced the fates to give him the most ill-fitting true name in the history of eternity.  
  
They fed Victor, and he'd absolutely roasted Yuuri's current weight. But he was here to be Yuuri's coach, of that, there was no joke.  
  
No one else had seen Victor's back, nor Yuuri's for that matter. No one questioned when Victor asked Yuuri to show him to his room, a disused banquet room that would have to serve.  
  
Alone, Victor turned to Yuuri. "We should spend some time getting to know each other, don't you think?" He knelt beside Yuuri, curling a finger under his chin. The half-cocked smile was all intentions and arousal.  
  
Yuuri flew backward, hitting the wall hard enough for pain to blossom in his tailbone.  
  
"What's wrong?" Victor asked, looking genuinely baffled. As though a casually sexual touch to a guy who still had his ears was in no way abnormal. Like it shouldn't provoke a reaction. They were true named, after all. Victor could have thought he could have anything he wanted. And the worst part was that Yuuri probably would have let him.  
  
Yuuri fled to his room.  
  
But there was no reprieve. A knock at the door was followed by Victor's cheerful voice. "Yuuri, let's sleep together~!" And let Victor see the walls of Yuuri's room, completely plastered with all those old pictures of Victor?  
  
"Nooo!" Yuuri moaned, untacking them at the speed of mortal terror.  
  
"I won't take your ears if you don't want me to," Victor said. "I just want to get to know you! Yuuuri~!"  
  
The fear worsened as Yuuri clutched the posters in his fingers. The thought, frankly, hadn't even occurred to him. Being sexually desirable to Victor Nikiforov? Impossible.  
  
But goddamn, now that it had cropped up, it was taking over Yuuri's mind like the assault of an Ancient Roman legion. The thought of Victor leaning him back into the bed, kissing him gently, or maybe with a bit more ferocity, of Victor's long, thin fingers sliding through his hair and settling against his sensitive ears, rubbing the soft fur until Yuuri was purring beneath him. Bending him over and lazily driving into him until the little bobtail was gone from his back, and all that remained was the gold lettering.  
  
It was a frequent fantasy of Yuuri's, but it had always been just that, a fantasy. He never actually considered the idea that Victor would ever want...  
  
Yuuri shivered.  
  
"Nooooooo," he said, shaking his head fiercely.  
  
And yet, even as Victor surrendered and returned to his own room, Yuuri could feel the elation sizzling under his skin.  
  
There was hope. Maybe his back wasn't a lie after all.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The competition season begins, and relationships begin to change.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a few quick comments. This might be loosely based off of the Loveless universe, but the only things it really shares with it is the cat ears/tails and the existence of true names. This will mostly follow canon to an extent. I do plan on including extra scenes to fill in blanks. Next, I've got some polls in the end notes, I'd appreciate if you took a few seconds to fill them out when you get there! 
> 
> Lastly, thanks so much for all of the kudos, comments, bookmarks, and such! I really appreciate it. Enjoy the chapter.

Yuri Plisetsky's arrival brought with it a storm of chaos and teenaged fury.    
  
He was a fiery blond with a fluffy golden tail and large ears that suited his innocent look. Yuuri had never seen anyone dress in so much leopard print, but Yuri pulled it off somehow.    
  
He seemed surprised by something on his arrival, eyes going wide as he looked Yuuri up and down. His eyes settled on Yuuri's ears.    
  
"So you two haven't shacked up after all," Yuri muttered, with a bit of venom. "I would have thought that idiot-"   
  
"What?" Yuuri yelped, blushing furiously. He rubbed his ears, feeling them twitch nervously under his fingers. "Victor wouldn't- he didn't-"   
  
Yuri scoffed. "Everyone's thinking it. Legendary figure skater running off to a foreign skater who still has his ears? What else would he want?"   
  
The blush deepened. Yuuri took a deep breath. He didn't want to show a fifteen year old just how badly he'd been shaken. "Well, I don't know. You'll have to ask him that yourself."   
  
Victor, it seemed, had completely forgotten a promise to Yuri. And because of his mistake, it looked like Yuri and Yuuri were going to have to compete.    
  
Yuri sputtered angrily. If his tail lashed the air any harder, they could have used it to dust. "You have to promise to judge us fairly! I won't lose to this pig just because you're an idiot!"   
  
"I promise!" Victor laughed. "May be best kitten win~!" Both Yuris blushed.    
  
That night, Yuuri gathered his strength to Google his name. There were a few news articles announcing his defeat way back during the Grand Prix. A few gossip rags speculating on his current proximity to Victor.    
  
He clicked the tabloid with the rumors, heart in his throat. Yuri had been right after all. The world seemed to see Yuuri as another of Victor's potential conquests. But that didn't make sense. To be a conquest, that implied that there was something that made him desirable. And no one in the world found Yuuri desirable. This stint at coaching was just a cover, they said.    
  
But that didn't seem true at all. Not from what Yuuri had seen of Victor. Despite all logic, he did actually seem to want to coach Yuuri. That was baffling enough, but it helped. Because Yuuri wasn't going to lose to Yuri Plisetsky, no matter how talented the junior medalist might have been.     
  
In time, Yuuri noticed that Yuri, dubbed Yurio by his older sister, lightened up by small shades. He still waved his tail like an angry flag wherever he went, and his ears seemed perpetually slicked back from his head. But he bathed in the main bath after a few days, and he ate dinners with a little less intensity.    
  
Their first time in the main bath together, Victor nowhere in sight, Yuri glared at Yuuri. "You're not even hiding it?"   
  
He was talking about the true name. Yuuri went red to his chest. "I actually forgot." He pressed his back to the stone.    
  
"You two are disgusting," was all Yurio said, turning over in the bath. He flicked his tail toward Yuuri, spattering him with droplets of water. Yurio otherwise fastidiously ignored Yuuri’s entire existence. 

In the span of a second, Yuuri confirmed two things: that Yurio knew about Victor's mark, and that he had somehow previously known about Yuuri's. The lack of reaction was too out of character.    
  
Yuuri moved away from the wall slowly, confused. "How did you know?" he asked gently.    
  
"Know what?" Yurio growled.    
  
"And how did Victor know?" Yuuri realized.    
  
Yurio's ears perked, suddenly attentive. "What do you mean, how do we know?" he growled, like he didn't care either way.    
  
"I only told Phichit and Yuko about my name appearing. But when Victor came here, I mean, we've never even met before but somehow he knew-"   
  
"You don't know-" Yurio wheezed. He started laughing. "Oh god, you don't know! Okay, all you need to know is that you're not as good a dancer as I am," Yurio said firmly. "If we ever have a dance off, I will win! You got that?"   
  
Yuuri blinked at him, confused. "What?"   
  
Yurio's green eyes were glittering in delight. "Just like I said, Katsudon, I'd win! The old man and I saw your back during the banquet, okay? Don't worry. Like, next to no one else did."   
  
"What do you mean, next to no one?"   
  
"Really, don't worry about it. Maybe Chris. I don't know."   
  
Yuuri breathed out a sigh of relief. "Well, as long as it stays quiet." Yurio grinned.    


* * *

Yurio discovered his agape under the waterfall.    
  
It seemed like a cruel joke. As angry and spirited as Yurio was, he at least still had his ears. He portrayed innocent love in his very looks, the sweetness of his broad ears and thick tail.    
  
Giving Yuuri Eros was setting him on the path to failure. A humongous joke really, and Yuuri would have been insulted if Victor didn't seem so god damned intent that Yuuri would be able to pull it off.    
  
Yuuri still had a tail, for crying out loud! He couldn't embody eros for as long as the sleek little tuft of fur stuck out of his back. Sexual love on a creature who very clearly never experience sex before. He even admitted his eros was food! What kind of person said something like that? Someone who still had their ears and tail, that's who!   
  
Obviously Yurio couldn't pull eros off either, so handicapping Yuuri like this... it would have been a compliment. If either of them had needed the handicap, that was. Instead, it was an intentional crippling of Yuuri, and they had to see that!   
  
No one could ever mistake fluffy-eared Yuuri for the playboy.    
  
But then again, maybe they didn't have to. At the Onsen on Ice competition, Yuuri felt his nerves as acutely as needles being driven under his skin. Yuuri was as ready as he'd ever be with Minako's suggestions in mind.   
  
Yurio's agape was intense and unstoppable. Yuuri couldn't breathe.    
  
Before him, Victor was smiling, almost eye level when Yuuri was in skates.    
  
"I- I'm going to become a super tasty katsudon so please watch me," Yuuri said quickly. He hugged Victor before his nerves could get the better of him. This could be the last he saw of his idol. His hero. The man whose true name Yuuri shared, somehow, despite the odds.    
  
"I love katsudon," Victor breathed.    
  
Yuuri closed his eyes. He couldn't just let Victor leave like this. Yuuri blushed to his ears as he skated onto the ice.    
  
Victor had still had his ears and tail when he'd worn this particular costume. Back then, the long, thin, silvery tail had been set off beautifully by the dark black. Yuuri's stubby little fluff at his back was barely visible at all, but that actually helped convey the story how Yuuri wanted it to.    
  
Because it was different now. Because Yuuri wasn't the playboy, and he would never be.    
  
A certain playboy comes to town, a man who is wordly and experienced, knowledgeable in regards to sex and seduction.    
  
The most beautiful woman in town decides that she wants him for herself. Though still in possession of her ears, she is not unwise herself to the ways of the world. She desires him for herself, so they begin the game of love. She seduces him, and when she's gotten what she wants, she casts him aside, pleased by the conquest and in need of him no longer.    
  
Yurio was gone before Yuuri even finished skating.    
  
The next time Phichit and Yuuri spoke, Phichit was amazed. "You still have your ears after that?" He was incredulous.    
  
"Victor doesn't see me like that," Yuuri said, eyeing the door. He was FaceTiming his friend, and Victor was most likely asleep right now. It paid to stay in the safe side. "He... he's just my coach."   
  
"You don't sound so sure," Phichit said. "Come on, don't tell me he hasn't offered. I saw the video of that Onsen on Ice thing. I saw the look on his face. You can't tell me he's not interested. That's the face of someone who's totally interested."   
  
Victor wasn't interested in anything but coaching. Yuuri was certain.    
  
For a moment, Yuuri was tempted to tell Phichit about the names. About the matching pair of words across his and Victor's spines, the promise of becoming absolutely historic.    
  
But no, Yuuri wasn't brave enough for that.    
  
"That's not why I called," Yuuri said. His ears were flat to his skull. "Do you still have the number of that girl who composed the song for me?"   
  
"Yeah, let me just try and find it," Phichit said. Yuuri was a coward.    


* * *

When the Chugoku, Shikoku, and Kyushu championship came around, Yuuri felt his shame like a fresh wound. He was the oldest by a wide margin. Many of them had lost their ears.    
  
But Yuuri made it through, somehow. Even when Victor dodged out of the way of the nosebleed, something felt different between them. Slightly changed. For better or worse, there was no going back.

* * *

In the hot springs, Victor slid a hand down Yuuri's back, tracing his fingers over the English letters. "You can do even better," Victor said. "This proves it."   
  
Yuuri shivered, ears slicking back. The fur was damp, his hair mussed. Victor's touch left goosebumps trailing its wake.    
  
"You seem stiff," Victor said. "Are you nervous about the Cup of China?"   
  
"A bit," Yuuri breathed. The interview was a bit of a blur in his mind. He'd announced his theme of 'love' to the world. In the nervousness, Yuuri found himself losing awareness of what he'd said, sort of babbling whatever came to mind. Whatever it was, Yuuri hoped it wasn't too terrible.    
  
But now that regional competitions were out of the way, the Grand Prix assignments awaited. The tension was eating him alive.    
  
"Your true name won't lie to you, Yuuri," Victor said, and Yuuri could hear the smile in his voice.    
  
"Are you sure?" Yuuri scoffed. Victor's fingers pressed slightly harder against his skin, starting to knead gently into the muscles. Yuuri went stiff before he reluctantly started to relax.    
  
Victor was so fond of casual touches. Maybe it was something that came with losing his ears. Maybe it was just the way he was. Either way, Yuuri was beginning to grow used to the frequent contact. He no longer flinched away immediately, and he didn't show his reactions so obviously in the flick of his ears.    
  
Victor pressed more firmly into the skin, massaging at the muscles. After a time, Yuuri eventually accepted the impromptu massage, going boneless against the rocks of the spring. The hot water was luxurious. A comfort, a distraction from Victor's burning touch.    
  
Victor laughed softly.    
  
"You look quite relaxed now," he said. Yuuri mumbled something under his breath, and his tail flicked irritably. But under Victor's touch, he didn't tense.    
  
Yuuri's eyes started to grow heavy, dipping low.    
  
"You're so cute, Yuuri," Victor chuckled.    
  
"Don't insult me," Yuuri grumbled.    
  
"I'm not," Victor said. He dug his fingers into the juncture of Yuuri's neck and shoulder blades, and the feeling was  _ just right _ . Yuuri groaned. "Every time I touch you, your tail moves. Just a little."   
  
"That's not cute, it's childish."   
  
Victor hummed. "I seriously doubt anyone is mistaking you for a child, Yuuri. Least of all you or I."   
  
"It's still embarrassing," Yuuri said. "You wouldn't know, you lost your ears. Anyone who looks at me can always see exactly what I'm thinking."   
  
"Does it make you unhappy?" Victor asked. One hand moved to comb through Yuuri's hair. When the fingers brushed against one of Yuuri's ears, Yuuri yelped. "Whoops, sorry."   
  
"You don't sound sorry," Yuuri muttered. No, that little touch was absolutely deliberate. "And no, I'm not unhappy. Just... sometimes... I wonder what it would be like. Not to have everyone look at me like... like I'm different because I haven't experienced the same things everyone else has."   
  
"You aren't any different," Victor said.    
  
Yuuri made a scoffing noise in the back of his throat. "I have a tail."   
  
Victor tweaked it, making Yuuri yelp pitifully. "And what a cute little tail it is!"   
  
"V-Victor!" Yuuri wailed, mildly scandalized. Victor started to massage his shoulders again, laughing. "D-don't touch that!"   
  
"It's like a little puffball! It's so cute!" Victor laughed. He moved his fingers back over the tail, running them through the damp, black fur. Yuuri cried out and wriggled free. He scrambled to the other side of the hot spring before Victor could even blink.    
  
"Noooo," Yuuri groaned, hiding his tail by butting up against the wall. His cheeks were hot and saturated with red. Victor smiled.    
  
"Awww, come back here, Yuuri!" Victor called. "I'll stop!"   
  
Yuuri shook his head. "No way!"   
  
"Please?" Victor asked. "I'll let you touch our name~" To clarify his point, Victor wagged his backside at Yuuri, showing off the gold writing.    
  
Yuuri shook his head. "Nope."   
  
Victor shook his hips a few more times, showing the name off at the best angle possible.    
  
The name often came in the dominant language for the couple, or whatever would be most relevant to the bond they would share.    
  
For it to be in English was only fitting. It was the one language they could communicate easily in. Victor's Japanese was still almost nonexistent, and Yuuri's Russian left a lot to be desired. Years of adoration of a Russian figure skater, and all Yuuri could show for it (at least in terms of language) was a handful of common phrases.    
  
Cursive printed names often correlated into deeply romantic bonds. There were always exceptions. Yuuri questioned it every day.    
  
And for the letters to be gold? Yuuri didn't quite know what that meant. The names were usually written in black, or printed like scars into the skin. Colors weren't unheard of, but they were certainly unusual. The gold was unmistakably unique. Just like Victor.    
  
Victor deserved the absolute best. Of that, there was no question.    
  
Yuuri would have to prove himself worthy of Victor's time and effort, and, it seemed, of Victor's affections. Because Yuuri wasn't stupid. He might not have understood why Victor was giving him so much as the time of day, but Victor was still here. Victor was flirting near constantly, and he didn't talk like that to Mari, either. No, only to Yuuri.    
  
It was confusing and weird and nothing Yuuri could wrap his brain around, but it was staring him plain in the face.   


It made his heart race like he'd just finished jogging, made the nerves of his fingers tingle like they'd fallen asleep. Everything buzzed when Yuuri was close to Victor. Everything was electric and alive. 

And sometimes Yuuri found himself staring at the cupid’s bow of Victor's mouth, the pretty lips stretched into a heart. Sometimes he was struck by desire. 

Yuuri wanted this. He wanted this so badly it made everything ache just to think. If only Victor made sense. 

* * *

The Cup of China approached at an inexorable pace, and soon Yuuri was packing for the flight, folding his shirts so that they wouldn't wrinkle in the suitcase, double checking everything so he wouldn't leave anything important.   
  
Victor waited till the absolute last minute, and somehow still beat Yuuri.     
  
The dread of publicity returned as soon as their flight touched down, when they were mob-rushed by a crowd of overeager reporters chattering excitedly to Victor.    
  
Phichit pulled Yuuri's ears during dinner with a teasing grin, like he was checking to make sure they were real. Even with Phichit's picture of the night going slightly viral, surviving the first day of competition was... not as bad as expected. Yuuri was triumphant leaving the ice. At least, until the shock had settled in and the realization of where he was crippled his thoughts.    
  
Yuuri wasn't used to first place.    
  
Victor didn't seem to realize the true extent of Yuuri's nerves, and there was certainly no way Yuuri was going to tell him. Yuuri could get ahold of himself.    
  
In the hotel, Yuuri turned over in the bed, sleepless. His phone only made matters worse. Yesterday had been one thing. People seemed to think Yuuri was screwing around before the competition purely because Victor was involved. Never mind that Yuuri still had his ears.    
  
Speculation worsened after the short program. Possibly Yuuri's fault. Publicly seducing Victor didn't help Yuuri's case of innocence. And the thing was, Yuuri wasn't sure he wanted it to.    
  
Because even though it left him a blushing mess to even think, even if his eros was buried achingly deep and had to be forcefully drawn from the deepest pit of his body, Yuuri liked this. He liked the liberating feeling of his own sexuality laid out bare to the world.    
  
Showing the world this side of him made him feel strangely powerful. In control of himself. Less ruled by the emotions roiling through him.    
  
Sometimes Yuuri tried to get better control of his ears. When he was in public he'd hold them as still as he could and tried to see how long they could stay like that. In private, he'd let his mind wander, pushing into a variety of emotions that always made his ears twitch. Sadness, joy, arousal. And he'd try to control it.    
  
It seemed like a silly, stupid game to play. Sometimes it even worked.    
  
Victor never had this problem. Even when he skated, his ears had never so much as twitched. On the ice, he was collected, expressive without being showy. He was always beautiful.    
  
Yuuri turned over in his bed, skin feeling itchy and unbearably hot. It didn't matter how tired he was. How desperately he needed sleep. His eyes refused to shut, and that wakeful, restless feeling had him turning over and over in the hotel bedsheets.    
  
Across the room, Victor's breath was soft. He slept like a rock, early to bed and early to rise. His face was slack with sleep.    
  
Yuuri could only stare in the muted darkness of the room. He needed sleep. He needed it.    
  
He drifted to the bathroom, closing the door quietly but firmly behind him, hitting the lock as he went. He put the lid of the toilet seat down. Sometimes it helped to take the edge off, to ease his hand past the waistband of his briefs and take a hold of himself, sliding his palms down his length.    
  
Masturbation didn't take ears. Yuuri knew from experience. Oh god, did he know.    
  
He slicked his tongue over his palm, wishing he'd thought to grab the lotion off the bedside table. The smooth slide would have made this easier. The chafe was a distraction, an unpleasant one at that, but it didn't ruin the moment either.    
  
He bit his lower lip. The whimpers were soft in the back of his throat. He could feel himself stiffening slowly, and he let his mind wander.    
  
How many years had he dreamed of losing his ears to Victor, assuming it all to be a distant, unreachable dream? Knowing that he'd never get close enough, settling on the compromise of skating the same ice as him.    
  
Would Victor be gentle, the way his touches always were, back in Hasetsu? Would his kiss be as featherlight as his hands moving over Yuuri's hips, tugging him on the ice into a more correct position? Or would he be like his alternating criticism and praise, effortlessly switching between the sweet and the sharp, barbed comments that came so offhandedly. Yuuri could already feel his tail curling in delight.    
  
Would he be rough? Push Yuuri against the headboard and claim him, growling softly in his ear and absolutely railing inside of him?

Yuuri stifled the moan. "Victor," he whispered, whimpering and bucking up into his hand. He let the fantasy play through his head, and he finished with a satisfying shudder, hips jolting helplessly. He cleaned himself up. Returned to his bed. 

Victor was still out cold, sprawled on his back now. The guilt flooded through Yuuri.     
  
Reporters liked to ask after their relationship. The truth was, Yuuri himself didn't even know. Sure, Victor was his coach. But the quiet intimacy didn't seem suited to that dynamic. Sometimes Yuuri liked to think it was something deeper, that for at least a little while, he could hold Victor's heart and attentions just like this. It wasn't fair to the living legend.    
  
Yuuri wanted more.    
  
He didn't sleep.    


* * *

It was easy, so easy, to forget that Victor was just a man. That he was fallible. Human. Less than the godly perfect creature he appeared to be on the ice.    
  
As Victor led him up from the parking garage, Yuuri's eyes still red and his ears flat to his skull despite his best efforts, the thoughts repeated in his head.    
  
Stupid Victor. Really, he should have been better prepared for something like this. It wasn't like Yuuri's stress was anything new.    
  
His ears perked and rotated on autopilot, fixating on the murmured conversations as they passed. How obvious was it that Yuuri had cried? Victor was unsteady. The unshakable Nikiforov was off his game. Yuuri dropped his tissue, poking Victor's head.    
  
Yuuri let himself go on the ice with a deep breath. He was fine. He  _ was _ fine, actually, and Victor was just a human, no more divine than any other mortal creature roaming the earth. He was clueless, but he cared. He did, Yuuri could see it.    
  
Before the music began, Yuuri could see Victor's eyes, feel the heavy gaze, and he knew that it all was there: the unshakable belief in Yuuri, even when he didn't believe in himself. They spoke in languages that didn't rely on words, and sometimes that led to miscommunications. Things left unsaid. Sometimes they missed the cues. But it was only human.    
  
Victor was listening now. Yuuri didn't want a single word to go unsaid.    


* * *

Despite Yuuri's wishes otherwise, kissing did not do anything about ears.    
  
The debate about their relationship was brought to the attentions of the figure skating world again, but for the first time, Yuuri didn't give a damn. He didn't care. Not one bit.    
  
Because Victor had heard him, and Victor had answered. Yuuri was lead off the ice, tail wiggling joyously at his back, Victor's arm a comfortable weight around him. Phichit might have won gold, but Yuuri had something better.    


* * *

In the hotel room, Yuuri glanced at Victor. They'd leave tomorrow.    
  
"Does it bother you?" Yuuri asked quietly. "The fact that I still have my ears?"   
  
Victor always insisted it wasn't strange or at all abnormal. That Yuuri was free to move at his own pace, society be damned.    
  
Victor paused with his hands half-buried in the suitcase, digging for a clean shirt to wear on the flight the next morning. He looked at Yuuri strangely.    
  
"I told you, I don't mind that you still have them. You're beautiful. Your Eros is undeniable. And people are fools to think it makes you any different, with or without them."   
  
Yuuri's hands were trembling. If he didn't say it now, he never would. The shot of alcohol from the hotel mini fridge was warm in his stomach, and had burned his throat on the way down. Liquid courage indeed.   
  
"That's not..." Yuuri murmured. He shook his head. "I just mean..." Yuuri grabbed his towel, moving toward the bathroom for a shower. The walk covered his steadying breath. Now or never.    
  
At the doorway, he paused, leaning against the frame. Inner eros told him to slide his hips out a little more, present the little bobtail for easy viewing, show off the curve of his torso. He tipped his head back toward Victor and his ears gave a nervous flick.  

"They're yours. If… if you want them."   
  
Victor choked. "Yuuri." Even his voice sounded strangled, and his eyes were the widest Yuuri had ever seen them, open and staring like a void of the brightest oceanic blue.    
  
Yuuri's cheeks grew hot. "Oh. I mean, if you don't want-"   
  
"No," Victor breathed. "I do, I do. Yuuri. Yuuuurrriii," he groaned. His fingers raked through his hair as if all of this was agonizing. It wasn't what Yuuri had expected. Victor's reaction was much more raw than Yuuri thought it would be. As though the offer itself was pure torture, but Victor had never been more eager. "But Yuuri, are you sure?"   
  
"I... don't know. If I'm ready, I mean," Yuuri admitted. 

Their first kiss, public at that, left an itch that Yuuri desperately wanted to scratch, an ache of desire that needed fulfilling. But it was still their first kiss, and the jump between the two things was too big to surmount in hours, no matter how long Yuuri had wanted this. No matter how many years Yuuri had rubbed out his sin into tissues to thoughts of Victor. How many months Yuuri had watched Victor bathe in the hot springs, flushed under his touch on the rink, and been told to  _ seduce _ like he was born to it. 

"But... they're all yours. That much... that much I'm absolutely sure of. If you want them."   
  
"Whenever you're ready," Victor insisted. He closed the distance between them, cupping Yuuri's face in his hands like he was holding some precious stone, beautiful and glittering in the light. "As soon as you're ready, I would be honored. Moya lyubov, my love," Victor whispered. Again and again, he whispered the words until Yuuri's face burned. 

Victor kissed him again. Unlike the frantic press of lips, the crack of ice on Yuuri’s back, and the steady warmth of Victor all around him, this kiss was different. 

The world had seen Yuuri’s first kiss, but the second, the third, the fourth? That was just for Yuuri and Victor and the quiet of their hotel room. 

"People are going to know," Yuuri said. "Are... are you okay with that?"   
  
"Oh, Yuuri," Victor huffed. "I was worried about  _ you _ . I kissed you in front of the whole world, didn't I? I think I made my intentions very clear."   
  
Yuuri felt a bubble of delight rise up. He laughed, in spite of himself, in spite of the shocking closeness, the domestic intimacy of Victor's body wrapped around Yuuri's.    
  
"Maybe we should wait, then. Just a little while. The media likes speculating about us, you know. They say some crazy things."   
  
"I know," Victor said. "I read the articles when I need a laugh." Victor read the speculative gossip rags for a laugh. Any other day, the words would have propelled Yuuri into an anxious panic. But the way Victor said them left no room for mistake, so full of warmth and love that there was no taking them as anything less than absolute adoration.    
  
Yuuri couldn't hardly breathe at the thought. Yuuri was the one batting way above his league, but Victor managed to make it sound like he was the lucky one.    


Victor’s fingers found Yuuri’s ears and made small circular movements. Yuuri closed his eyes and went limp, purring quietly under his breath. 

"If you're worried, I have a contact who works in a company that produces fake ears,” Victor murmured. “Very high quality. Nearly indistinguishable from the real thing. And they're quite discreet. You can let the world know on your terms.”

"You don't mind?" Yuuri asked. The last remaining fear. Victor had found it, and somehow knew exactly what to say. Yuuri was the lucky one.    
  
Victor shook his head. "The media seems to think you're a thing to be conquered. But you're not a conquest, Yuuri Katsuki. Besides," Victor added with a smile. "Regardless of whether you've still got your ears or not, I like them knowing I'm good enough to stay close to you."   
  
"Good enough," Yuuri scoffed, like Victor was the lucky one.    
  
"You deserve only the best!" Victor insisted. "Of everything!"   
  
The argument dissolved into quiet laughter, and Victor seemed quite content to hold Yuuri close.    
  
"The reporters kept asking... what we are now," Yuuri said after a minute. 

Solemnity had returned. Media loved labels, though labels had never much suited either of them. Putting names to things made them too concrete. Too unforgiving. Their fluid lives seemed anchored under the words. And yet.. still everyone demanded a name for what Yuuri and Victor had. And maybe it was Yuuri's selfishness, but he wanted to know, too. "What are we?"   
  
"We are us. Together," Victor said firmly. "I'll stay by your side for as long as you'll have me."   


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, I mentioned polls above, so here's the deal with those. How many people would be interested in this fic going explicit? No guarantees, I was originally going to stick to a Mature rating, but I could be persuaded to change that. 
> 
> If I did so, I would either stick the scene at the end and change the rating, or post it a completely separate fic as a part of a series, so this one could retain its original M rating like I intended. www.strawpoll.me/12477872 is the first poll, where you can share your opinion on that. 
> 
> The other thing I was wondering, as much for my own interests as for research purposes, what flavor of Victuuri people prefer. I have my own opinions on the matter but mostly I enjoy a bit of everything. www.strawpoll.me/12477892 will let you share your opinion on that, and I made it so you can pick several options on that one. To simplify matters, it's in terms of Yuuri. So. 
> 
> Thanks!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In Regards to Yuuri's Ears, Agape.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jury's still out on the smut, but it will go at the end of the fic if it's included. 
> 
> As always, thanks so much for the kudos and comments and such! I really appreciate it.

Work didn't stop for a victory. Silver was nice, but it wasn't gold, and there was always room for improvement. Yuuri knew that better than anyone.   
  
Their touches become flirtier, a little more intimate. The two toed the line between decency and straight teasing. Sometimes when Yuuri would practice his exhibition piece, Victor would grab him by the waist and lift and spin, like he couldn't keep his hands off, and they'd skate the piece together with careless grins and fingers laced.  
  
Sometimes they'd laugh their way through a run of Eros, and Yuuri's winks and sashaying hips threatened to be too much, if they didn't fall over laughing trying to figure out the best way to seduce the entire audience. But Yuuri knew best: if he could seduce Victor, the audience would follow.  
  
The ears remained. The moment never really felt... right. They were always too exhausted after practice, or Makkachin needed a walk, or the onsen had run out of green onions and Yuuri was needed for a grocery run. The onsen didn't offer much in the way of privacy, either.

Victor was the perfect gentleman, really. He didn't push Yuuri past his comfort zone, and let Yuuri grow comfortable in their own slow, easy way.

Yuuri didn't want a lot of ceremony to losing his ears. Victor offered that, but the thought of it was too horrifying for Yuuri to even consider. He'd never enjoy a candlelit dinner alone with Victor knowing what would come next. He'd be panicky, stressed, the definition of a hot mess.

Victor kissed the fears away. He always met Yuuri right where he was and made him feel safe. So whenever it felt right, that was when it would be, and that was how Yuuri wanted it.

Victor's contact arrived four days after the Cup of China. She was a tall woman, a bit on the older side, with a dark pixie cut and a black pantsuit and heels. She arrived with little more notice than a phone call five minutes before her arrival, and Victor happily tugged Yuuri off the ice.  
  
"This is Theresa Flint," Victor introduced her. "Reece, this is Yuuri Katsuki."  
  
"Mm, so cute!" she said, a smile splitting her face. Her fingers went to Yuuri's ears immediately, and Yuuri struggled not to flinch back. "I don't usually get to see them while they still have the ears!"  
  
"So, you think you can handle this?" Victor asked. "I know you've done some good work, but I want only the best!"  
  
"Don't you worry. A few measurements and pictures, along with a complimentary fitting, and you'll never know the difference. What style were you thinking? Headband? Clips? We've also got a moveable set that come with a dial to control their rotation, if you want that super realistic experience, but those are a little bulkier."  
  
"He has to be able to skate in it. The headband would be too noticeable, even if we styled his hair around it, and the remotes are too bulky. He would never be able to focus in that."  
  
They had settled fully into business now, and Yuuri could only watch as they fell deeper into the discussion.  
  
"The devices are not as big as they used to be, especially compared to ten years ago. Much less obvious. I think he could manage it during public outings and interviews. He's very expressive, someone might notice if he's suddenly not twitching his cute little ears at every question."  
  
"True," Victor said, while Yuuri managed in an indignant, "not every question!"  
  
Victor tapped his chin. "If you think it would work, then it's fine. I don't really keep up with these things. The clips should do for skating."  
  
"This isn't my first rodeo, Victor. You won't be disappointed. That much I can guarantee."  
  
She busied herself with a tape measure and a camera, getting a large variety of angled shots to show off the scale of every angle, the colors, the way the ears tipped when Yuuri emoted. She sized his head, measured its slope with odd implements, and noted everything in a notebook. It took almost half an hour.  
  
"We like to be thorough, given the chance," she explained. "We can make do after the fact with photographs, but it just isn't as precise."  
  
Her touch was just on the friendly side of clinical. Nonsexual, nonthreatening, rather like the way Phichit would tease him back in Detroit.  
  
Victor laughed. "He only purrs like that when he's very relaxed." And, Yuuri didn't mention, when someone was messing with the base of his ears.  
  
She clicked her tongue happily when she reached the tail. "This makes matters very easy. Longer tails are so hard to replicate with any accuracy. I wager only Yuuri will ever notice the difference between the real and the fake, as long as he's got some clothes on."  
  
"Excellent," Victor said, smiling warmly at Yuuri.  
  
"Now, it might be a few days before my people start, I've got a starlet in a tizzy right now who's demanding her fakes yesterday, but it shouldn't be hard to find an appropriate base to start on. Give me a week at least before you see them."  
  
"Thanks for the help, Reece," Victor said. "And really, I'm glad you could make the trip out."  
  
"Nonsense!" she laughed. "I think the personal touch really shows on projects like these. What kind of professional would I be if I didn't come for my favorite little skater?" She beamed at Victor. It was less of a fan smile to an idol, more of a fond, familial expression.  
  
"Do you know Victor well?" Yuuri asked.  
  
"We go way back," she said. "I was a fan from the first time I saw him. But then, isn't everyone?" Yuuri smiled. "So, Victor. Will I see you back on the ice any time soon?" Her tone was light, more teasing than anything else.  
  
"Now, now, no insider information," Victor tutted. "It won't be a surprise if I say."  
  
She laughed. "Of course. You're right. I'll stay in contact. Would you like me to bill you now, or send you an invoice when we've got the products available for inspection?"  
  
"I trust your work, so I'm fine with whatever you're used to," Victor said.  
  
She nodded. "Alright. I'll get the down payment now, if that's alright, and you can pay the rest after the fitting. I've got to head to Los Angeles in two days for another fitting, so just give me a call when the ears come off. Even if I can't make it personally, you can trust my people will make every effort to ensure your satisfaction."  
  
"Absolutely," Victor agreed.  
  
Reece packed her things up quickly, smiling the whole while. "Well, I've got a few errands to run in Tokyo before flying out, so I'll talk to you two later."  
  
Inherent weirdness aside, it hadn't been so bad. Yuuri would have to warm back up again before he could get into his practice once more, but it wasn't the worst way to spend time. He was just glad Victor had thought to have her come to the rink, rather than meet at the onsen where Yuuri's family might wonder. The less his family knew about his (possible future) sex life, the better.  
  
Still... Yuuri found it hard to focus on practice. Although it had been a small part of it at first, it wasn't, in fact, coming to terms with the fact that this was real. That he would lose his ears. There were nerves, of course, but... it was about time, too. He didn't want to be little virgin Yuuri the rest of his life.  
  
It wasn't discomfort at the knowledge that Reece must have known exactly what was going on between them, or at least suspected. Why else would anyone need to plan for fake ears? The media was as voracious as ever, and Phichit had been immensely proud of Yuuri and Victor's ability to fully break the internet for a solid week.  
  
The embrace from the Cup of China had been splashed over even mainstream tabloids, leaving the skating exclusive gossip rags in the dust. And why wouldn't it? Was it a hug, a kiss? What was the nature of their relationship? What had been done to trigger it? Was this meant for attention or had it been a spur of the moment decision? So many questions, and it all boiled down to a possible skating drama stirred up since last skating season. It wasn't enough for them to have been previous competitors, but when people heard about the multinational chaos, it had started catching on. It was crazy, shocking, extremely unorthodox.  
  
They were surprisingly popular in America, apparently. At least, that's what Phichit was saying.  
  
No, it wasn't any of that causing Yuuri stress, although it might have played a small part. It was more the way Reece had spoken to Victor, so casually. She'd been friendly. And while that seemed like the default public persona, as far as Yuuri could tell, it seemed a bit different. Either this was excellent customer service, or there was something else to it.  
  
Had Victor done this for someone before? The thought made Yuuri miss his quad toe, and he sprawled over the ice with a groan.  
  
He was back on his feet in a second, trying to shake it off.  
  
"Something on your mind, Yuuri?" Victor asked.  
  
"No," Yuuri said, shaking his head. He skated off, building up speed for another jump.  
  
Victor was allowed to worry about ears of their people. He might have even been the one to take them from some people. It sent a few shivers down Yuuri's spine at the thought, before he silenced them.  
  
No, for right now, right here, he was Yuuri's. At least for now, he was Yuuri's. 

* * *

He practiced holding his ears still again during the Rostelecom cup. He slipped only briefly, exposing a small flash of embarrassment after yanking Victor's tie before skating to Eros.  
  
But everyone had been screaming Victor's name. Everyone wanted his attention on them, and he was giving it to them with that goofy, happy smile Yuuri loved so much. That attention belonged to Yuuri.  
  
Yurio had given him a once over, even publicly yanked on Yuuri's ears, and clicked his tongue.  
  
"Wow. I didn't know the old man could keep it in his pants for so long. You're still going to suffer a miserable defeat, though."  
  
The kiss to Yuuri's skate seemed like it pissed Yurio off more than Yuuri and Victor normally did. Or maybe it was calling out good luck to him in each others' languages. 

Yuuri was riding the high that came from so much happiness, he would burst.

The call could not have come at a worse time. But they had no choice. Yuuri would be damned if Victor couldn't be there for Makkachin. Not after Vicchan.  
  
Victor held him close in the hotel lobby, eyes soft and blue and broken, like a heart torn in two.  
  
"I wish I didn't have to leave you alone. Trust Yakov," Victor said softly.  
  
"I'll be fine," Yuuri replied. His ears were flat to his skull and his arms refused to let go. "Be with Makkachin. I can handle this."  
  
"I know you can," Victor whispered. His voice cracked. "I'll be watching. I won't take my eyes off, not for a second."  
  
"Good," Yuuri breathed. He closed his eyes. He wasn't going to cry. This wasn't goodbye forever. Victor was just flying back two days early, is all.  Back in Hasetsu, with Yuuri's family.  
  
"Goodbye, moya lyubov," Victor whispered, pressing his lips to Yuuri's temple.  
  
Yuuri's breath hitched. "See you soon," he finally said. He didn't let go. His arms refused.  
  
Victor curled his fingers through Yuuri's hair. Yuuri purred softly as they rubbed against his ears, right at the base where it felt like a dream.  
  
The only thing harder than letting go was skating Yuri on Ice alone.

* * *

Labels were never a thing that Yuuri and Victor adhered to. Words were a thing that were sometimes largely unnecessary. A single performance told a story, but more than that, it sang with everything Yuuri thought and felt.  
  
Others couldn't often see it. It was a language only those on the ice could read.  
  
Yuuri could only hope Victor had heard his love letter, as loud and clear as he'd written it.  
  
But when Yuuri came home, Victor made absolutely certain that Yuuri knew exactly what he thought of the matter.

* * *

The media was alight. The buzz never truly abated. Not fully. Not when the story of Victor and Yuuri was the slow burn steady updating saga that fit so neatly into serials.  
  
The skating websites and blogs made attempts at staying professional. They focused on Yuuri's impressive growth in their coverage of the Grand Prix, speculation about the finals. They liked to contemplate how he'd compare to the other skaters in the event, how his performance would stack up compared to previous ones.  
  
The American tabloids loved the flirtatious drama. Yuuri knew because Phichit kept sending links to blogs that speculated about how close the two really were. They fed almost entirely on the photos of Yuuri and Victor at competitions, because there wasn't much opportunity otherwise.

Yuuri wondered if those magazines would fixate more on the 'good luck charms' or on Yuuri's interview where he stated he wouldn't be retiring. It was a toss up.  
  
They all went to dinner together after the competition finally ended. Yurio wore his gold, his matching gold tail thrashing the air in disgust as Yuuri and Victor made, quoting Phichit, 'love eyes' at each other.  
  
Yuuri, in his silver, laughed joyfully. Phichit reached to yank his ears, and Yuuri tactfully dodged. "Come on, Phichit. Do you and Yurio have to do that every time we meet up?"  
  
"You know I do," Phichit said with a grin. He elbowed Chris. "You know we can't trust Victor."  
  
Chris smirked and shook his head. "Not one bit."  
  
"We're _engaged_ ," Victor complained. "And you still don't trust me?"  
  
Phichit and Chris both shook their heads gleefully.  
  
Yurio scowled in disgust. "Just marry the pig and be done with it. And stop being gross in public."  
  
Yuuri smiled. Victor had told him what happened at the beach. Hearing that now, after deciding to continue skating, felt a bit like a jab, but also a... compliment, almost. Yurio was a ball of screeching teenage angst, but if you looked past it, it was kind of sweet.  
  
The thought of both Victor and Yuuri just abandoning the ice for each other, Yuuri could see how that would seem like the ultimate betrayal. It was a good thing that they didn't have to.  
  
Words were hard. Sometimes not speaking didn't pay off. But skating was always the surest way for Yuuri to speak his piece. It seemed so simple: bundle up all his thoughts in a neat little program and give them all to Victor. But life was full of little struggles, and the miscommunications were things that would take time to resolve one by one.  
  
With the ring on Yuuri's finger, he couldn't imagine anything he'd wanted to fight for more. Yuuri scratched at his ears, grinning.  
  
This was what made him happy, he realized. His eyes moved slowly over the table. Yurio was leaning close to Otabek, complaining about something. The two were surprisingly close after a short period of time. They simply fit, like pieces of a puzzle. Yuuri would have been worried after Yurio's ears if  
  
    a) Yurio had been anyone else. Because there was no way Yurio would do anything he didn't want to do, and there was no way to make him. If the ears came off, it would likely be at Yurio's insistence.  
  
    b) Otabek hadn't been the most surprisingly mature 18 year old Yuuri had ever seen in his life, especially considering the boy (man? Person?) still had his round, almost bear-like ears softening his gruff exterior.  
  
    c) Yuuri wasn't absolutely certain that Yurio was besotted with his ears and tail, loving the ability to resemble his favorite animal in the world.  
  
    d) it was any of Yuuri's business. Because it wasn't, and Yuuri knew it. Just like how the world didn't need to know his own business. At least, not the things he didn't want to tell...  
  
"You're breaking the internet again," Phichit reported. Victor squealed in delight, leaning over to look at Phichit's phone.  
  
"Yuuri, they love the exhibition," Victor said. His smile was like an excited child given free reign in a candy store.  
  
"Of course they do. It's been, what, 24 hours since you last surprised them?" Chris said with a laugh. "They must be desperate for something new."  
  
Yuuri leaned into Victor with a hum. "It's a little fun," he admitted. "I always did love the way you were constantly surprising everyone, but I never really understood why you did it. Now I think I do."  
  
Victor grinned. "Is that right? It's fun, isn't it? Yuuri, can we do it again?"  
  
His eyes were alight with a devilish charm. Yuuri laughed. "You're already surprising them with coming back, aren't you? What more can we do?"  
  
Victor cocked his head, still smiling that same thoughtful, evil grin. "I can think of a few things."  
  
"Can I help?" Phichit asked.  
  
Victor was nodding excitedly. "Yes, yes, your followers could be very helpful!"  
  
They chatted and laughed and enjoyed dinner for a while. JJ was still loud and a little abrasive, but Yuuri was starting to see that he wasn't such a bad guy, under the social deficiencies. A bit of familiar anxiety undercut his words and his actions. His fiancée was a lovely person, though, and Yuuri was glad he had someone who would stand by his side the way Victor stood by Yuuri's.  
  
Chris and Phichit got along famously, to absolutely no one's surprise. They swapped stories of Victor and Yuuri that only best friends could know, and left the happy couple embarrassed and indignant, but laughing.  
  
At last, Phichit glanced at Yuuri. "Hey, Yuuri, one of those reporters asked you a question, but I don't think you heard it. What would you do if you met your true name soulmate?" Chris nodded, clearly hoping for the answer.  
  
Yuuri and Victor exchanged a look. "You didn't tell him?" Victor asked.  
  
Yuuri went wide-eyed. "It... might have slipped my mind. It's on my back, okay, I don't look at it often!"  
  
"I know Yuuri's met his soulmate at some point or another, I was the one who saw the damned thing and told him," Phichit grumbled. Yurio's eyes were going wide. Chris was starting to grin, clearly piecing it all together.  
  
Yurio mimed throwing up. "Ew. Come on, Otabek, the old people are going to be gross."  
  
"Yuuri," Phichit warned. "Am I about to be angry?"  
  
"Maybe?" Yuuri squeaked.  
  
Phichit's eyes flicked toward Victor. Back to Yuuri. Back to Victor. It was like a repeat of the engagement announcement, as Phichit pieced it all together.  
  
"You, Nikiforov, are showing me your back when we get back to the hotel," Phichit said, giving Victor _the look_. He pointed the look at Yuuri. "And you didn't. tell. your. best. friend."  
  
Yuuri put his hands up. "Phichit, really I-"  
  
"Forgot?" Phichit groaned. "Uuuuggghhhh, Yuuri! I'm betrayed. You've betrayed me. Is there anything else I need to know?" Yuuri glanced sideways at Victor.  
  
Victor shrugged, a sort of, 'up to you' movement. Deferring to Yuuri’s judgement in this case, one of the few things he wouldn't push. Phichit frowned.  
  
Yuuri blushed. "It's a bit of a recent... ah... thing. I can tell you later."  
  
Phichit stared. "Yuuri. What else have you done."  
  
Yuuri's red cheeks deepened in color. Even though the restaurant was a fairly busy place, hard to be overheard in, he could tell that they were attracting a bit of attention. People were watching the skaters curiously. Through gritted teeth, Yuuri muttered, "I'll tell you in the hotel."  
  
"Fine," Phichit groaned. "But you owe me."  
  
That was perfectly fine with Yuuri. Because he knew fully well that Phichit was about to completely flip out.

* * *

Over the course of the next year, Victor and Yuuri, with a little help from their friends, underwent Operation: Break the Internet.  
  
It started innocently. Once news of the engagement broke, the tabloid rags were in awe of the precious (and finally official, after the endless teasing and back and forth over the Grand Prix season) happy couple. For the major magazines, the announcement that they would be skating against each other was completely eclipsed by pictures of that pair skate.  
  
The speculation never really died down fully. There would always be some new picture of Victor and Yuuri being domestic and precious in St. Petersburg, where it seemed they were living together for now. Some groups championed Yuuri as an absolute hero to challenging the status quo of 'adults never keep their ears'. Because, when Nationals rolled around during the new year, Yuuri still had his. 

Others called Yuuri out for blue-balling a Russian playboy national treasure for months on end. Because people doubted Victor would be getting any from somewhere else, not when they were quite obviously dedicated to each other, despite Yuuri’s ears remaining fixed on his head after all this time.

Victor's new theme of Life and Love was adored. His songs evoked a certain romantic whimsy. His favorite composer was not able to write two songs to Victor's immensely high standards on such short notice and still allow Victor time to practice. So he changed his mind.  
  
His free program remained an original composition, a work named Love and Life that sang of life and freedom and comforts, a window into the newfound domesticity of Victor's soul. It sang with every bit passion Victor had for his place beside Yuuri, a love letter of his own to reply to Yuri on Ice. The story of his life with Yuuri now by his side. It was nicknamed, tongue-in-cheek, Victor on Ice.  
  
It had all the hallmarks of a trademark Victor Nikiforov performance, the high degree of difficulty, the precise execution, and a newfound emotion backing it that gave a whole new depth to the performance. Critics called it his best skate yet.  
  
But his short program was something completely different. People were so used to Victor writing his own stories, blazing new paths. They waited with baited breath, but making new surprises and remaking himself every year wasn't Victor's love anymore. Yuuri was.  
  
Yuuri, who had danced straight into his heart and fled at the 'stroke of midnight', leaving behind only Victor's champagne-soaked dreams of bliss.  
  
'So This Is Love' had exactly the feeling Victor wanted. Describing love as something indescribable. And Yuuri could understand so perfectly, that feeling of being unable to put into words the way his heart ached for Victor, the way Victor made him feel. He could only say that he knew it, now that he'd found it. He knew what love was. And so did Victor.  
  
The role of dashing prince didn't seem so different in appearance from the look of his Stammi Vicino role, and yet it was also completely different. In a way, it was the perfect answer to the heavy, emotionally charged 'Stay Close to Me'. Gone was the desperate expression, replaced by love, love, so much love.  
  
Yuuri kissed Victor as he got his short program scores during Russian Nationals, to a rain of reporter flashbulbs. Victor hadn't gotten his record back for the short program, but it was still an extremely well done performance.  
  
Phichit was live tweeting it, and chose that exact moment for his secret weapon. In preparation for the event, he had dipped into his secret stash of 'Detroit days Yuuri pictures' and badly photoshopped a Cinderella dress onto Yuuri. His Instagram followers ate it up, and it got even worse when Victor tweeted it. The Disney princess jokes didn't fade for a week.  
  
At first, Yuuri had been pissed. It wasn't even a good picture. But as the excited fervor for the silly picture spread, as Victor and Phichit openly fawned over Yuuri, as all three of their fanbases eagerly ate it up, they started to develop the plan.  
  
The real clencher came during a FaceTime chat with Phichit. Victor's chin was perched on Yuuri's shoulder, and they'd been talking for at least an hour already.  
  
"Come on, you can't keep it a secret forever," Phichit said. "And if you do it this way, people will be dying to piece together when it might have happened."  
  
Victor's smile spread slow and easy. "I like it, it's devious."  
  
"You would," Yuuri muttered, but he was smiling too. "It is about time... And we're going to need a surprise before Worlds."  
  
Victor was absolutely purring against Yuuri, holding his young fiancé close to his chest. "Can I pick which program? Please please please?"  
  
Yuuri considered it for a moment, but the answer was already there. He couldn't decide which would be better, and it seemed Victor had opinions on the matter. "It's yours."  
  
"I love you," Victor cooed, squeezing Yuuri tight.  
  
"I love you too," Yuuri replied.  
  
Part 1 was decided that easily. Part 2 was still in the works. But the idea came through around Four Continents, when a reporter caught Yuuri and Victor before dinner and tried asking after a few questions. They were innocent enough, and Victor was in a good mood, cheerfully chirping answers along the way.  
  
"What would you two do if either of you encountered your true name soulmates?"  
  
Yuuri and Victor exchanged a look. Yuuri was the one who slid in, the idea coming to him devilishly quick. "We haven't really discussed it. It's such a rare thing, really. And Victor and I are quite happy together. I don't think it would change anything."  
  
When they met with Phichit at the restaurant, they hashed out a plan in excited whispers.  
  
Now all Yuuri needed was a gold medal, and Operation: Break the Internet could go 100% smoothly. 

* * *

Yurio was devastating during the Nationals, and he didn't let up when European Championships rolled around.  
  
Victor's comeback hadn't been quite what he'd expected. It was almost impossible, especially when Victor might have had one too many katsudons back in Hasetsu, not to mention his fondness for drinking copious quantities of alcohol. So he was a little less than absolutely perfect shape. He barely lost to Yurio in the Nationals.  
  
When Europeans came around, Victor had gotten enough practice in on his programs to truly shine, beating the young skater out by a close margin. Yurio had fumed and skated furiously, but Yuuri knew that the blonde was quietly glad that Victor was still every bit the monster he'd been last year, even after his coaching break.  
  
Yuuri was stunning in the Japanese nationals. His tail stayed neatly pressed against his back, and he kept his ears in sharp, perfect points, standing at attention. Nothing could ruffle him. Not when Yuuri could look forward to skating against his fiancé so very soon.  
  
At last, it was time for the Four Continents. There would be no Chris, Victor, or Yurio, but there would be Phichit, Leo, Seung-Gil, Guang-Hong, and JJ, among others.  
  
Phichit was jumping on the 'break the internet' hype train fully, no turning back, and he busted out a quad salchow that he had worked on with Yuuri over FaceTime. With his tremendous flair, he did extremely well for himself.  
  
JJ was back, steadier than the Grand Prix final had been, and he proved why he had managed to sweep the qualifiers.  
  
And Yuuri? He did well enough. Another silver was fine. He privately blamed a certain distraction for lowering his presentation score. The real event in Yuuri's mind was Worlds, and this was just the step leading into it. The preliminary work.  
  
Victor chose Yuri on Ice for their plan. Eros would have been extremely fitting, but a little too on the nose. People would have suspected it was deliberate if that happened. So Yuuri skated his seductive Eros performance, seducing his husband from afar, and waited for the next program.  
  
When it finally came, Victor kissed him gently. His fingers hooked under Yuuri's ears with a gently press, and Yuuri hummed into his mouth, ready to go out on the ice.  
  
Yuuri waited until the step sequence. The movements of his arms made it seem like an accident, knocking them loose, and the spin served to nearly dislodge both.  
  
Yuuri stuck the final pose, panting and pointing to Victor, one fake ear hanging loose off his head, connected by a clip to his hair, and the other completely gone. It had spun off and hit the ice somewhere.  
  
Yuuri patted his head, letting the fake surprise and horror cross his face. They'd practiced this, and the real show was beginning now. Yuuri started to mildly freak out, locating the other ear and sheepishly skating back to Victor, passing them over.  
  
Victor, meanwhile, wasn't calling attention to it at all. He scolded Yuuri's second jump element for not being high enough and then led him out of the kiss and cry with a press of his lips to the temple.  
  
It wasn't a new record, and it wouldn't keep him in first, but the deed was done. Yuuri smiled quietly as reporters bombarded him with questions, and Yuuri answered exactly none of them, holding a quiet little smile on his face.  
  
Let them wonder.  
  
JJ took the gold, but Yuuri took the second place spot on the podium without ears, and both of JJ and Phichit had noticed.  
  
"Yuuri, you minx!" Phichit teased, winking. A perfect execution of their plan.    
  
Yuuri returned to Victor with the silver around his neck and a kiss to Victor's lips. Phichit got first dibs on the photo op.  
  
Yuuri reached around and plucked the tail from his back. He held it loose in his hands while the reporters openly gaped. "I guess we won't need this anymore, will we?"  
  
Victor smiled. "Mmm... maybe we should keep it. Might be fun later..." His tone made Yuuri shiver.  
  
At Worlds, despite Victor and Yurio's best efforts, Yuuri claimed gold at last.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not that much of an artist, but I do looooovvveee drawing Victor, and I thought it might be nice to draw kitten!Yuuri snuggled up to him. Here it is since, y'know, why not. It was already done, and I'm not exactly going to post it anywhere else. Also, I don't really have anywhere to post drawings so... hehe imgur I guess! imgur.com/gallery/B8H6p


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Victor found the posters. Yuuri loses his ears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's sex now! It's at the end of the chapter, and there's some decidedly non-porn events before then, so if you're not into Yuuri losing his ears, you can just stop reading as soon as things take a sexy turn. Just watch for Victor's cheesy foreplay. 
> 
> Also, if it isn't immediately obvious, this takes place immediately after the Rostelecom Cup. Thanks!

The train ride back to Hasetsu was spent curled against each other. It was after the Rostelecom Cup, after Yuuri had barely coasted into the Grand Prix Final by a hair, after Yuuri had reunited with Victor. 

Together at last, once again, and Victor and Yuuri were quite content to never let the other fully go. Looped pinky fingers as they walked to the train, a kiss after setting the bags up where they wouldn't be jostled around, and Yuuri’s head on Victor’s shoulder as the train sped back home. 

Home. With Victor beside him, and the Grand Prix Final waiting. 

Makkachin was curled at their feet. Yuuri was so glad the dog was okay. If Makkachin hadn't made it, if Victor had been forced to face the same thing Yuuri had, he could have never lived with himself. 

“I missed you,” Victor whispered into Yuuri’s hair. 

“I missed you, too,” Yuuri replied. He closed his eyes. One of Victor’s hands had found his ears, and he was rubbing at them in the way that made Yuuri absolutely melt. “I wish I'd done better. If I hadn't messed up my jumps-”

“Shh,” Victor said. “I'll scold you for that at practice. For now, relax. You made it. Your mother is making you katsudon and we might as well celebrate.”

“Would you celebrate fourth place?” Yuuri asked, mildly mutinous. He looked at Victor’s shameless smile. 

“I will always celebrate you, zolotse,” Victor said. He tipped Yuuri’s chin up, placing a slow kiss to his lips. It was all warmth and softness, but no real heat. A kiss for a busy train. 

Yuuri wanted more, so much more. But they were in public, taking the evening train with long-distance commuters watching out windows with sleepy eyes, families with bouncing children, and high school students jabbering excitedly on their cellphones. 

They returned home. Yuuri bathed and headed for the dining room. He smiled at Victor over his bowl of katsudon, seated next to him, their thighs pressed against each other. 

“You did very well, Yuuri,” Hiroko said with a smile. “Vicchan, did you want more sake?”

“No thanks,” Victor said. “I've got everything I need.” He batted his eyes dramatically at Yuuri. Hiroko chuckled as she left the room. 

Victor’s arm found its way around Yuuri’s waist. “So, Yuuri. How is it?”

“Delicious,” Yuuri said. Victor snuggled closer. There was a bit of impish glitter in his eyes, a dangerous sort of excitement. “Are you okay?” Yuuri asked. 

“I just missed you,” Victor said innocently. “Am I not allowed to miss my favorite skater?”

“Not when you're being weird,” Yuuri laughed, nudging Victor with his elbow. Victor clamped on tightly as a limpet. He kissed Yuuri’s cheek. “Really, Victor, what's gotten into you?” 

Victor’s smile fell a little. Worry flashed through Yuuri before he could stop it. 

“Victor? Is something wrong?” Yuuri expected Victor to brighten up, just like he always did. He expected the heart shaped smile to flash over his face, bright as the morning sun. It didn't. Victor’s smiled dropped completely from his face. 

“Hey, Yuuri?” Victor asked. He was quiet. “You were a fan of mine, right?”

Yuuri hesitated, but slowly nodded. No sense in lying, although Victor certainly didn't need to know the level of worship it had taken on for a while there.

“Did I…” Victor paused. His voice was strangely small. “Did I measure up? To your expectations, I mean.”

“What are you talking about?” Yuuri asked. 

“I just mean… people get a certain idea about me. From my interviews, my photo spreads, everything. And really, they're supposed to. Nobody is supposed to know that I'm… annoying. Or clingy.”

Yuuri started to argue, but Victor put a finger to Yuuri’s lips, huffing in amusement. 

“Just because I can't help it doesn't mean I don't know I do it. But… nobody before you has ever… really wanted to get to know the clingy Victor. They didn't want ‘just Victor’. They wanted something else. A mentor or a lover or a trophy. And I…” 

Victor’s breath caught. Yuuri held him close, quieting the small, growing shudders with kisses. “Victor-”

“No, I need to say it,” Victor whispered firmly. His voice was shaking despite his efforts. “Yuuri… People get this… idea in their heads about what and who I am. They never want more than that. And when they find out that the pictures in the magazines are just… an act. When they hear that the interviews were scripted in advance when I was younger. When I tell them that the Victor that accepted all those medals isn't really me… they don't want me.”

Yuuri blinked. Maybe it was selfishness, that Yuuri never really thought about what it would be like for Victor to have to deal with his celebrity status alone. That Yuuri never considered the idea that maybe Victor hurt just like he did. That Victor could have been just as alone in the world, no matter how loved he was. 

“Victor, I don't-”

“I know that, Yuuri,” Victor said. He closed his eyes, leaning heavily against Yuuri. “I know you don't think that. I saw it during your Free Program. You say I meet you where you are, and Yuuri, I try, I really do, but I don't think you realize just how much you do the same for me every single day.”

Victor’s eyes were a little glassy. Yuuri’s heart felt like it was breaking. “Oh, Victor.” 

Yuuri feathered little kisses down Victor's cheek, ending with his lips. 

“Victor, I know you're not the face in the posters. You're so much more than that,” Yuuri said. “You've been there for me when I needed you. Of course I'm going to be there for you. And yeah, I have to admit, sometimes you're a little clingy. But… I like it. I really do, even if it seems like I don't. I know I've never…” Yuuri shifted uncomfortably, his ears twitching. Victor could get the point without it being said. “Not with anyone ever before. I don't have a lot of experience with this and… I’ll probably mess up a lot. But Victor, I love you. Every part of you. I did when I was a fan, and I still do now. And… honestly?”

Yuuri tipped Victor’s head up to look at him and smiled. 

“I like this Victor better than the one in magazines. He was too distant. Too untouchable. This one is just right. Handsome. Affectionate. Sweet. Honest.” Yuuri punctuated each word with another kiss. Victor held Yuuri close, content from the closeness.

Victor let out a shuddering breath. His beautiful smile was back, colored by sadness, but also with hope. 

“I love the real Victor,” Yuuri said gently. 

They sat together like that for a long time, the remnants of the katsudon going cold. Yuuri rubbed circles with his fingers against Victor’s back. He purred when Victor answered with gentle touches to his ears. 

They were a mess. But at least they had each other. 

“What brought this on?” Yuuri murmured. 

Victor chuckled softly, but it wasn't a happy sound. “Don't get mad. I might have slept in your room while you were gone.”

“Why would I be mad?” Yuuri asked. Victor pressed his lips to Yuuri's throat. “Viiccctooorr,” Yuuri groaned. “Why would I be mad?”

“I might have found some posters. And asked Mari about them. And… she told me about your… ahem. Crush?”

Yuuri went very still. The posters. Shit, Victor had found the posters, and now he knew just how stalkerish Yuuri must have seemed and how obsessed over Victor he had been and-

“See,” Victor muttered. “You're mad at me.”

The words grounded Yuuri, the upset expression that flickered over Victor’s face.  He took a long, deep breath, swallowing back the waves of panic. In. Out. Deep breaths. He blinked twice. 

Yuuri laughed. 

Victor was startled. He sat back, immediately worried, but it just made Yuuri laugh harder, until tears were streaking down his face and his cat ears were pressed flat to his skull. “Yuuri, what-?”

“We’re a mess, aren't we?” Yuuri said. 

He could barely breathe, let alone speak, but he'd somehow managed the words. The laughter shifted, and the tears were hot and bright, running down his face in streams. He didn't know anymore if it was laughter jostling his shoulders or sobs, and honestly it didn't even matter anymore. 

“I was so worried, so scared you'd find them and think I was a crazy stalker, or worse, and then… then you… Victor. You ask  _ me  _ if I think less of you. Like… somehow you wouldn't impress me just by being you.” 

Yuuri collapsed against Victor. He  _ was _ crying now, and in earnest. 

“Victor. Victor,” Yuuri breathed. 

Because Victor didn't know just what this meant to Yuuri. The fact that Yuuri wasn’t a weirdo for loving Victor so much longer than Victor had loved him. The slow, swelling ache that overtook Yuuri every time he realized that the idol he had worshiped was not necessarily the man in front of him, and honestly, that was the best possible thing that could have ever happened. 

They always said never meet your idols. They'll never measure up. And the thing was, Victor wasn't like his public persona, and that was okay. Better than okay. Yuuri didn't want the man on the posters anymore. He wanted Victor, and Victor understood that. 

Victor held him close, and a teary smile was spreading over his face. “How long?” Victor asked softly. 

Yuuri took deep breaths until he could talk again. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” Victor said, sliding his hand over Yuuri’s back, “how long… were you a fan?”

“No, it's embarrassing,” Yuuri muttered. He buried his face into Victor's shoulder. There were dark spots in the soft green fabric where his tears had soaked through. Victor rubbed Yuuri’s ears until he stilled. 

“Please, Yuuri? I just want to know. I promise I won't make a big deal out of it if you don't want me to.”

Yuuri huffed and shuffled around. Somehow he'd ended up in Victor’s lap, which wouldn't be so bad except for the fact that they were in public. The dining room was empty now, given the hour, but anyone could come in at any time. Victor was still making slow touches to his ears, petting him, relaxing him. Yuuri closed his eyes. 

“I was… 12, I think? The first time I saw you skate. You were beautiful. I didn't even really know what a crush was back then. All I knew was that… watching you skate was different from watching Yuko or Takeshi skate. It was something… I don't know, magical? That sounds cheesy,” Yuuri said with a dark flush. “Yuko shared one of the posters from her magazine, and that was the first of… well, I guess you saw how many. I had it on my walls for… god, for years. I don't know how long.”

Victor chuckled softly. “I did see more than one poster there. It was a nice collection, actually. It made me want my own of you.”

“Victor,” Yuuri groaned. 

“No, just think. A wall of me, just for you, and a wall of you, just for me!” Victor laughed brightly, like it was a wonderful idea. A selfish part of Yuuri liked it, too, the idea of his face marking Victor’s walls. He shook his head. No, definitely creepy. He didn't want to see himself on the walls. 

“Absolutely not,” Yuuri said. Victor pulled him to his feet, and Yuuri followed behind, tugged along by his wrists. “Victor,” Yuuri groaned. 

Victor was smiling again, the impish glitter back in his eyes. They ended up in Yuuri’s room. Victor sat eagerly on the bed. “Can I see them? Which is your favorite?”

Yuuri sighed. The stack of posters were out of their hiding spot, resting on the corner of Yuuri’s desk. They looked like they'd been thumbed through which Yuuri was away. “Looks like you already saw them,” Yuuri said. 

Victor hopped to his feet, pressing himself against Yuuri’s back and encircling Yuuri in his arms. “Yes, but you weren't here. I want to know what you think of them. Like… this one,” Victor said, pointing to the one at the top. It was of Victor on a throne, regal as a king. “Where was it on the walls?”

Yuuri pointed without even looking. His cheeks were stubbornly red. 

Victor pouted. His chin tucked into the dip in Yuuri’s shoulder. “Boo, Yuuri. If you don't want to play, we can stop.” Yuuri could feel Victor’s lips moving along his neck, and it sent chills racing along Yuuri’s spine. Yuuri sighed. He thumbed through the pile until he found the one with Victor wearing the black and silver costume from Yuuri’s Eros and the one with the Stammi Vicino outfit. 

“This one used to be my favorite,” Yuuri said of the Eros poster. “I had it right there.” Yuuri pointed to a span of wall beside his bed, the place of honor. “It came with me to Detroit, and I had it in a similar place in my dorm. Phichit joked about it a lot. Then this one came out, and it replaced the old one.” Yuuri pointed to the Stammi Vicino poster. 

Victor smiled, tight lipped and pleased. “Twelve, huh? This poster was from when I was… hmmm, sixteen? And such a special spot for it,” Victor cooed. 

Yuuri wasn't sure where this was going. 

“You had a crush on me, right?” Victor hummed, pressing his lips to the shell of Yuuri’s ear. His real ear, not the cat ears that were suddenly laying flat to Yuuri’s skull. 

“It’s… pretty obvious, right?” Yuuri stammered. “I mean, I'm sure Mari told you-”

“Mari just said you had one, she never said what you did about it,” Victor said. His eyes were smoldering. The blue was nearly eclipsed by the dark black pupils. Victor’s eyes fluttered half-shut. “Tell me, Yuuri… did you ever think of me?”

“What?” Yuuri gasped. 

“You know what I mean, Yuuri,” Victor purred. His hips began to slowly sway. “I was a teenager once, too. Little Yuuri, alone in his room, posters of his crush on the wall… did you ever think of me?” Victor’s voice had seemed to drop, becoming rich and dark and a little husky. 

Yuuri’s cheeks were on fire now. Oh. So that was where he was taking this. 

“Did you ever fantasize about us?” Victor crooned. His hands were slipping low, settling on Yuuri’s hips. Yuuri dropped the posters back onto the desk. Heart racing, pulse throbbing loudly in his ears, Yuuri felt like he couldn’t breathe. 

Yuuri could stop this. He could, if he wanted. One word, and the moment would die. He’d keep his ears another day. And wasn’t that why they’d waited so long? 

Because Yuuri dreaded the thought of heading to breakfast in the morning and seeing the knowing look on his sister’s face when she saw him without ears? Knowing that, oh fuck, his parents would know that he and Victor had gotten busy in the onsen, in his childhood bedroom? The world would know that Yuuri had sex. 

“Yuuri,” Victor breathed. The end of it curled up, almost a question. He was waiting for an answer, waiting for Yuuri’s response before continuing.

Yuuri was scared. God, he was so scared right now. But it was Victor, and Yuuri trusted Victor. He  _ loved _ Victor. They’d talked about this. And this was what Yuuri had wanted for years. He wasn't about to give this moment up, no matter what the anxious voices in his head were screaming. There was never anyone other than Victor. Never had been, and there never would be. 

Images flashed through his head of the years Yuuri had touched himself, dreaming of what seemed so impossible at the time, and here it was in front of him. Victor’s breath curled so patiently against his neck, making the little hairs there stand on end. His tail curled. 

Yuuri closed his eyes, leaning back into Victor’s touch. “Yes,” he breathed. “God, yes, I’ve imagined it.”

“Oh?” Victor said, sounding interested now. “How naughty, Yuuri. Tell me. How did it happen? How did you imagine us?” Victor’s lips skated eagerly along his neck. 

Yuuri was trembling. Not fear, really, not nerves. Excitement. Even with his stomach tying itself into knots, there was a low burning sensation of dark satisfaction, a pleasure aching deep in Yuuri’s chest. “I… imagined us…” Yuuri breathed. He sucked in a sharp breath. “Any way you'd have me.”

“Oh, Yuuri,” Victor said. He hummed, sounding so pleased. “Keep talking like that and I'll have to have you in  _ every _ way.”

“Fuck,” Yuuri choked. 

Everything was electrified, the words striking like lightning. Victor laughed, and the dark huskiness vanished for just a moment, replaced with genuine joy. Victor pressed a sloppy kiss to Yuuri’s cheek, and despite the dark, heavy eyes, Yuuri could see Victor’s gaze was sparkling with mirth. 

“Let's,” Victor agreed, turning Yuuri around.

Facing him now, Victor was having a very visible reaction. His cheeks were dusted pink, his eyes half-closed, his lips a little shinier than usual. Victor swiped his tongue along his lower lip. It was like he was hungry, and the only thing he wanted was Yuuri. It made Yuuri smile in spite of himself. He was a delicious Katsudon Femme Fatale and Victor, his idol, wanted  _ him.  _

Victor closed the distance, settling his hands back around Yuuri’s hips, fingers ghosting along the waistband of the sweatpants. “So, you did fantasize about me?” Victor asked. He pecked Yuuri’s lips once, twice, teasing and drawing it out. 

Yuuri flushed. “I already said I did.”

“How did it start?” Victor breathed. “How do you want it?” His eyes were dangerous and beautiful, gleaming in the low light of the desklamp. He pressed his forehead against Yuuri’s and smiled. 

“It… varied,” Yuuri muttered. He was feeling a dangerous combination of mortified and strangely aroused, and it was all Victor's fault. He could feel the heat gathering in the pit of his stomach, feel the blood rushing south. 

“How about the last time? What did we do?” 

The last real fantasy to play out had been… Yuuri groaned at the memory. It had been in the Cup of China hotel room bathroom, after the short program, while Victor had been asleep on the other side of the door. 

Yuuri’s imagination had been helped right along by the knowledge that Victor was sleeping right outside, knowing that Victor could have overheard him opening himself up at any minute, or noticed the breathy whimpers as Yuuri stroked his cock in those slow motions that felt so agonizingly good. 

It was the thought that Victor could have woken up and given him exactly what he wanted, if he felt like it. Bent Yuuri over the hotel bed until all Yuuri could think about was Victor growling praise softly into his ear as his cock dragged in and out. 

Yuuri shivered. “We kissed,” he started quietly. His voice was rough and shaking already.

“We do that already,” Victor cooed, pressing his lips back to Yuuri’s. He parted his lips, and Victor's tongue slid inside, tangling them into a breathless kiss. Yuuri’s breath came faster, and he pulled back, desperate for air and panting like a dog. Victor hummed happily. “What came next? Besides us, of course.”

Yuuri’s hips twitched up. Fuck, he was at half mast and rising, his pants tenting enough to make all of his reactions painfully obvious. Victor kneaded Yuuri’s ass cheeks with slow touches. Yuuri’s ears were slicked back, flat to his head. 

“You… you praised me. Told me… I did good. That I skated well,” Yuuri said breathlessly. “And then…” Yuuri hesitated, and Victor took the chance to slide his hand around the soft fluff of Yuuri’s tail, rolling the base of it between his fingers. Yuuri gasped. His hips rocked forward and- oh- Victor was hard, too. Yuuri let out a long, slow groan.

“Then what, beautiful? You're doing so good for me,” Victor said.

Yuuri choked on the words. He was such a virgin, holy shit, his cheeks were absolutely on fire, and if Yuuri wasn't so damned turned on right now he'd be too embarrassed to say a single thing. 

Yuuri clung to Victor to stay steady and on his feet. His knees were gelatin and threatening collapse at any moment. Yuuri could see his dreams so clearly. He couldn't breathe. 

“You fucked me.” 

“That can be arranged,” Victor said. His eyes were dangerous again, settling his hands along Yuuri’s sides before dipping down into the fabric. His touch was electric, burning where he brushed against Yuuri’s bare skin, skirting upwards under Yuuri’s shirt. “May I?” he asked. 

Yuuri wriggled free of his shirt, and Victor tossed it behind them. The blush was spreading past his neck, down his collarbones, all the way down to about mid-pectoral. Victor’s gaze was appraising and approving. 

Yuuri squirmed under his watch. The hungry look in Victor’s eyes faded. “Yuuri…” he said softly, and the low rumble of it was dulled by concern. “Hey, Yuuri, if you don't want to do this now, we can stop,” Victor continued. Like Yuuri hadn't already been doubting himself. Like Yuuri hadn't already made his decision. 

Yuuri swallowed back his nerves. “No.” His voice shook only slightly, and otherwise held firm. His eyes raked down Victor’s neck, down his chest, following the lines of the green yukata that hung loose and half-open. Victor was beautiful. He was so perfect, and Yuuri  _ wanted _ , in that animal way that was desperate and carnal and lived only in Yuuri’s wildest dreams. 

His fingers curled into the yukata, and Yuuri  _ yanked _ , dragging a surprised Victor forward as he rolled onto his toes. 

The kiss was short and hot and everything Yuuri had ever wanted. “No,” Yuuri breathed. “Don't stop, please, Victor…” He looked up, pleading, hungry, needy. “Victor, please, take my ears. Fuck me.”

Victor moaned into the next kiss, spinning them around and pulling Yuuri into the bed. 

Victor had slept here. The thought made Yuuri feel impossibly hotter, the idea that Victor wanted him, missed him, wanted this. Yuuri laid on his back, and Victor settled between his spread thighs, bent over him, feathering kissed down Yuuri’s jaw, his neck, down the collarbones. Yuuri’s toes curled. 

Hands slid along his sides, and one moving down as the other slid up to his neck, scraping his scalp. Yuuri whimpered as Victor began to massage the base of one ear, the other hand making similar motions in lines down his torso, settling in a splayed hand along Yuuri’s hips. Yuuri tipped his head up. 

“So good,” Victor whispered. “You skated so well for me, all by yourself. Everyone in Russia could see your love.”

The praise. Fuck, Yuuri needed this. Needed the confirmation, the validation, and Victor’s lips latching onto his chest like a starving man between the words. Yuuri’s toes curled, the bed sheets rucked between his fingers as he clawed and gasped, head thrown back and keening as quietly as he could. 

“So good for me,” Victor repeated. The splayed hand began to move again, sliding along the base of Yuuri’s tail. Yuuri whimpered and then groaned as Victor pulled back. “Is this what you wanted?”

“Yeeessss,” Yuuri hissed, gasping as Victor slid his hand past the waistband of the sweatpants, grabbing a handful of his ass and squeezing. “Yes, yes,” he panted. His hips cocked upward, taking pressure off his tail and giving Victor better access. “Always wanted… Mmm, Victor, so good…”

The neckline of Victor’s yukata was dangerously close to sliding right off his shoulder, showing off the long, clean line of where Victor’s throat met the smooth slope of his chest.

This was it. This was how Yuuri Katsuki was going to die. 

Victor tugged at the sweatpants, and managed to work them down off Yuuri’s hips, past his knees, and it was an awkward moment to free them from his ankles. Victor yanked, and one of the socks slipped right off along with the last of Yuuri's reservations. Yuuri was not going back from here. Yuuri toed the other athletic sock off, blushing a bit. 

At last, Yuuri was laid out on his bed, left in nothing but his black boxer briefs, the front of them tenting, and Victor Nikiforov kneeling above him with the warmest smile Yuuri had ever seen. 

Yuuri’s ears perked up slightly. “Victor?” 

“You're so beautiful,” Victor breathed, taking in the sight before him as though seeing color for the first time, like this was all new and exciting. The glitter of his eyes was a kid in a candy store, left alone and given the run of the place, surrounded by temptation and not knowing exactly where to start. 

Yuuri’s blush deepened. The ears tipped back flat once more. “Y-you've seen me naked before.”

“It's different,” Victor said. His eyes darkened. “Mmm, Yuuri? How did it go next? After I told you how beautiful you were, how your skating was like music,” Victor crooned. He bent over Yuuri, kissing him again. He slid the tips of his fingers into the waistband of the briefs, pulling them down with a little more care. Yuuri groaned into the kiss as the fabric dragged torturously over his cock, every inch of movement another wave of delicious agony, until he was completely exposed. The air was cold against his erection. “Did I take you like this?”

Victor drew down, and his lips closed around the head of Yuuri’s cock, pink and perfect and parting around the end of the shaft. His tongue flicked along the slit. “Ahhh!” Yuuri gasped, and he clenched his fingers into the sheets as Victor took him deeper and sucked until his cheeks hollowed out. “Victor, ahh, Victor,” Yuuri whimpered. His back arched upwards. 

Victor pulled off his cock with a small pop, licking his lips again. “Or a different way?” he asked innocently. It was just the right balance of beautiful and absolutely indecent, and it drove Yuuri wild. 

“Mmm,” Yuuri hummed, trying to think through the haze settling over him. “You're overdressed.”

“Of course!” Victor laughed. He undid the ties until the top hung open, exposing the lines of his chest. Yuuri slid his hands along the abdominal muscles. Just a touch. Like he needed the confirmation that all of this was real and not just another part of his imagination. It was hard and chiseled, softer from the weeks spent at a lower intensity, but Victor hadn't completely neglected his workout routine, and his magical metabolism kept him svelte and lean, unlike Yuuri.

Yuuri’s hands kept sliding, wrapping lose around his waist until his fingertips met just above where Victor’s true name sat. Yuuri’s true name. History Makers, in every sense of the words. He slid up, and Victor let him ease the top off his shoulders, discarding it to the floor. Victor wasn't wearing anything under the pants, and his own cock was standing hard and ready. 

Yuuri choked, but Victor just grinned mischievously. “It might not have been for as long, but I’ve been fantasizing about this for a while, too,” he admitted. The red tips of Victor's ears must have been deceptive. There was no way Victor could have possibly looked abashed as he said that. “I… took the liberty,” Victor admitted, reaching under the bed. He came up with lube and what Yuuri might have called a blush. 

Yuuri’s reply vanished out the window. All words did, in fact. He stared, the warmth creeping further down his chest. Victor didn't just want this, he'd anticipated it. “Okay,” he said. He nodded. This was very real, and escalating. His eyes closed, hands shaking as he pushed himself upright and turned over. His tail wriggled at the sudden freedom, and the slight discomfort from lying on his back disappeared. He settled on his knees, ass pointed to Victor, and glanced back. “Umm, is this… okay?”

It was Victor’s turn for stunned silence. “Yes. Oh, Yuuri, fuck yes,” he said quickly, his hands immediately sliding over the small of Yuuri’s back, touching the words spelled out there. “So beautiful, Yuuri.” He feathered kisses down Yuuri’s spine, tracing the lettering with smooth twirls of his fingertips. At last, Victor nuzzled his cheek against the tail. 

The hands disappeared. Yuuri heard a distant snap like a bottle being opened. This was happening. He tried to quiet the excitement. 

“It might be cold…” Victor said. “I, uh, haven't done this with anyone in a while,” he admitted. “So… tell me if it hurts you at all.”

Yuuri nodded. “Please,” he said. He closed his eyes as Victor circled the pucker with a cold finger, inhaling sharply at the temperature. Victor stopped. Yuuri’s eyes fluttered open, and he tipped his head back. “Victor,” he breathed. “Please, I need it.”

The finger pushed, and Yuuri groaned as it slipped inside with just a bit of resistance. “Yessss,” he managed. There was a small flash of pain and the sudden stretch of the invasion, but the lube made the finger slide inside easily enough. 

It was foreign and strange, not the most pleasant of feelings in the world, but Yuuri was no stranger to pain. Pulled muscles, torn ligaments, blistered feet. They made this feel tame, and Yuuri pushed back against the finger, knowing what it meant and what came next. 

Lips brushed the back of his neck, scraping softly with teeth once or twice as Victor latched on, curling his finger to increase the stretch. Yuuri buried his face to muffle the little pleased whimpers. In and out, the finger worked Yuuri open slowly. The tip of a middle finger pressed against the hole.

Victor pushed. The stretch became more intense, and Yuuri found himself clenching automatically around the fingers. “Relax,” Victor breathed, petting Yuuri with his free hand until Yuuri forced his muscles to go slack, let the tightness unwind slowly so that Victor could pump his fingers in and out with a luxurious slowness. He pushed, and the middle finger pressed deep inside. 

Yuuri cried out. Everything was lights and stars and delirious surges of heat, even as the brush against his prostate lasted less than the blink of his eye. His little tail was quivering, lashing at the air in needy twitches. “Again,” he whimpered, “please, right there.”

Victor scissored his fingers once before pressing deep back in, searching for the spot once more. Yuuri was an absolute mess when he found it again, rocking his hips back hungrily for more, for the stretch, the push. He needed more. 

A third finger appeared, sometime between Victor reaching for Yuuri’s cock and the shallow slide of his palm down the length of it, but when it had been added, Yuuri couldn't really tell. The pain was nearly nonexistent, lost to a sea of mindless moans. Victor worked his ass open with his fingers, the other hand alternating between teasing touches to Yuuri’s cock and dragging his fingers through the tail. 

It was already putting Yuuri’s dreams to shame. 

The hands pulled away, the fingers pulling out, and Yuuri groaned at the sudden feeling of being empty, of needing more, more, something filling him up. Victor’s breathy chuckle filled the air, but it was heavy with something darker. Yuuri glanced back. 

Victor's pupils were blown, his hands sliding back over Yuuri’s name like a devout at the altar of his God, worshipping with his cheeks flushed pink and his cock heavy and erect. One hand fumbled at the bottle of lube, working out a measure of it. He slicked it over his length with short strokes, groaning as he did. 

“Yuuri, my Yuuri, so beautiful, so perfect,” he panted. 

Yuuri buried his face in the blankets. The little pointed ears on his head were going haywire, the emotions becoming too much, the longing and acute, white-hot desire making itself known. It was too much. He splayed his legs a little further apart, making more room between them for Victor to settle. A slick hand settled on his thigh. The tail jolted straight up into the air. 

There was a coolness running down his leg, the extra lube sliding out his hole and spilling down his thighs. Victor pushed it back in with his thumb. The head of his dick pressed against the skin. 

“Yuuri, you're sure?” Victor said breathlessly. Yuuri tipped his ass back in answer, and the insistent push of the head against his twitching hole was enough to drive Yuuri insane.

“Yes, yes, please, yes, take them. Take me. Fuck me.” The words garbled into incoherency as Victor pushed in, the first inch thick and full, the head pushing past the tight ring of muscle. Yuuri groaned. 

It was so much, the stretch unlike the fingers before, so much fuller and the blunt thickness of Victor pushing inside of him. Yuuri shuddered as Victor filled him up, bit by bit, easing his length deeper with each shallow thrust. 

“Ahh, Victor, uhhn,” Yuuri keened into his pillow. It hurt, and not exactly in a good way. He whimpered as Victor pushed deeper and deeper in. Victor paused with half his cock buried inside. “Just… just a moment,” Yuuri groaned. 

Victor made a soft noise of agreement, kissing along Yuuri’s back and soothing him with touches to his ears. After a few deep breaths, Yuuri felt a little more adjusted. 

“Okay,” he breathed.

“I love you,” Victor breathed into his neck, pushing in deeper with a shallow roll of his hips. “With all my heart. You're so perfect and beautiful and mine-” Victor groaned as he bottomed out inside Yuuri. 

Yuuri was reeling. The fingers had nothing on Victor’s length, long and full and hard inside of him, splitting him open so perfectly that it brought a few tears to the corners of Yuuri’s eyes. 

All around him was Victor, legs splayed around his, his pelvis flush with Yuuri’s, his chest pressed to Yuuri’s back, trapping Yuuri’s tail there and holding it pinned down. One arm curled around Yuuri’s chest. The other hand slid down, curling around Yuuri’s cock. He'd softened a little from the pain, but a few strokes left Yuuri breathless and aching for more once again. 

“Please,” Yuuri gasped, breathy and light. Victor’s hips twitched. So full. Yuuri felt so deliciously filled up by Victor's cock, he could have stayed like this forever. They were connected. A thousand kisses could have never compared to what it felt like to feel Victor so deep within him. 

Victor rolled his hips, pulling back. The emptiness was unbearable, but just as soon, Victor snapped forward, burying himself back inside in a quick thrust. Yuuri saw stars. 

The drag of Victor’s cock, in and out, started slow. It left Yuuri gasping. Every pistoning thrust was a new breathy gasp, an alternation of pleasure and pain, empty and full, connected and not. The world felt so small. There was only Victor, the skim of his fingers over their name, and Yuuri, bouncing backward onto Victor’s cock with a desperation that Yuuri didn't know he had. 

“Fuck,” Victor grunted. His lips were back on Yuuri’s shoulder, and the hand on Yuuri’s cock returned to his ears. Yuuri was absolutely purring at the spikes of pleasure erupting from there. 

The pace was relentless and steady as a machine. The touch had him arching his back, pressing his chest flush with the bed and lifting his hips higher so they could reach more, more, more, deeper and harder and faster. 

“Victor, Victor,” Yuuri cried, writhing. He clawed at the sheets. “Close, Victor-” Yuuri shuddered as the pressure seemed to grow inside, curling and hot, tightening in his abdomen with every new thrust. He was so close. 

“Yuuri,” Victor gasped into his shoulder. “Ah, close… too.”

It hit with a feeling like flying, a sudden punch of weightlessness. He came hard on the bedsheets, ragged gasps escaping, riding out the feeling of Victor’s thrusts milking every last ounce of pleasure out of him and the teasing of fingers against his ears. Victor was still thrusting, still moving, and Yuuri shuddered from the overwhelming sensation. 

He could feel the hips stuttering. Victor’s fingers curled tight around his waist, fingernails digging, the pressure against his ears growing light. Victor gasped, “Yuuri, Yuuri.” He barely managed a few shuddering half-thrusts before he was cumming too, filling Yuuri deep. 

They panted, breathing heavily. Victor’s skin was sticky with sweat, dragging against Yuuri’s back just enough to set Yuuri’s nerves alight. Victor pulled out. Yuuri shuddered a little at the chilly feeling of cum and lube spilling out of himself. Victor kissed their name again. “Yuuri,” Victor breathed before flopping onto his side. 

Yuuri collapsed. His back was going to hurt, but for now, all he could do was press his lips to Victor’s. “I love you,” he said. 

Victor groaned into the kiss. “No, no, I love you more. I love you to the ends of the earth. Yuuri, Yuuri.”

“It's not a contest,” Yuuri laughed breathlessly. His eyes were heavy.

Victor pulled Yuuri flush to his body, nuzzling into Yuuri’s neck. His lips moved, featherlight, over the skin. “I would still win.”

“That's what you think,” Yuuri replied. He hummed into the next kiss, eyes closed and body warm and heavy. He was asleep before Victor could reply.

* * *

 

Yuuri woke up sticky and sore. He whimpered quietly under his breath as he stirred and felt a distant pang of shooting pains ripple across his spine, right beneath his name. He opened his eyes. 

Victor was watching him with a finger on his lips. 

Yuuri flushed. “What… why are you staring?” he murmured sleepily. Victor dragged his fingers softly through Yuuri’s hair. 

“Just thinking,” he said. His voice was rough with sleep, a little scratchy and the accent a little thicker. His hair was messy and beautiful. “How lucky I am. How perfect you look right now.”

His fingers lingered along the top of Yuuri’s scalp. Yuuri shifted. He made a face. He was sticky and dirty and feeling less than fantastic after everything, but there was a definite feeling of satisfaction. “Ugh. I feel gross.”

Victor laughed. “Me too. We should have cleaned up before sleeping. I imagine you're a little sore. How about I grab you some painkillers and we’ll let you soak in the hot spring for a while?”

“That would be nice,” Yuuri murmured. Victor slipped his green robes back on and left the room with his bare feet pattering softly against the traditional tatami flooring. 

Yuuri sat up. The pain was sharp, a satisfying ache like a hard workout using new muscle groups. He dragging his fingers across his scalp, smiling at the memory of Victor’s expression right before sleep had taken him. 

Yuuri paused. 

His fingers raked through his hair. The ears were gone. He slid his hands down his sides, circling around to his lower back. No tail. 

“Something wrong?” Victor was back. He set a glass of water, a few tablets, and a damp towel on the desk. 

Yuuri smiled slowly, letting his hands fall back to his sides. “No. No problem at all.” 

Victor kissed his hair, right where the ears had once been, and he grinned knowingly. “I'm glad. I'll call Reece while you're bathing.”

“Thanks,” Yuuri murmured, leaning up to press a fond kiss to Victor’s jaw, the only place he could easily reach without flexing his spine. His expression soured. “Breakfast is going to be interesting. I imagine they'll be surprised when I come out to eat…”

Victor blushed. Yuuri glanced at him, quirking up an eyebrow in polite confusion. “What?”

Victor coughed. “Well. Mari… did give me a high five when I grabbed your painkillers. And said something to the effect of ‘about damn time’.”

Yuuri blushed. “Oh god.”

Victor laughed nervously, raking his fingers through his hair. “Apparently we weren't exactly… quiet.”

Yuuri’s blush worsened. He buried his face in Victor’s shoulder. Somehow they'd ended up laughing. “Paper walls. Of course. How embarrassing. Forget breakfast. I'm staying here forever.”

Victor hummed. “I'll just have to stay here forever too, then.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I said there was sex. I never said it was good. This is my first time writing smut, so I know it's a bit subpar, but I hope it wasn't terrible. One more chapter to go, so stay tuned! Ilu all, darlings!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The last loose ends are tied up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for sticking with me! I'm sorry the social media message formatting is kinda terrible :I And I'm bad at tags.

The question had bothered Yuuri for a while.

"How did you know so much about fake ears?" Yuuri asked, a few days after 'announcing' his fakes to the world. It was before Worlds, and Victor was putting Yuuri’s artificial ears gently into the box they had arrived in. "You knew exactly who to call, what to expect."

He'd been the main reason Yuuri had been able to situate them right, day after day. He knew how to deal with the pinch in Yuuri’s scalp from the awkward clips, and the slight downward pull where the weight of the clipped tail tugged his pants too obviously down in the back.

If it hadn't been for Victor’s help, Yuuri might have thrown out the whole charade early just from how sick he'd gotten of dealing with it everyday, waiting for habits to form and for him to be comfortable enough to forget.

Victor shrugged. "Because I wore them for a while, too." Yuuri shouldn't have been so surprised.  But he was, he really was. Because it didn't make sense.

But... why?" Yuuri asked.

Public Victor was radiant. Unshakable. His impulses and surprises had rocked the world for years, and the announcement of him losing his ears had been one of the bigger ones in his life, in a positive way. It coincided neatly with his move to the senior division, and had seemed rather like a page turned over. A new Victor, a more mature one. It was all a media stunt?

But Public Victor was a carefully crafted lie. Yuuri knew that better than anyone, and he knew the toll it had taken on Private Victor.

"Remember when I asked if you regretted it? If it made you unhappy to have kept your ears for this long?" Victor said. His tone was uncharacteristically gentle. Yuuri nodded. "Well, maybe I regretted giving mine up."  
  
"But," Yuuri sputtered, confused. "But why?"   
  
"Because I lost them to a person who didn't mean anything to me. I gave them up because I didn't want to be a child anymore. I was fourteen, and I thought I knew best what I wanted from life. I didn’t even get his name. When Yakov saw... he was furious."   
  
Victor laughed humorlessly. He moved to embrace Yuuri, and Yuuri took the man into his arms.   
  
"I didn't get it, back then. Why Yakov wanted me to hide. Why he told me I had made the worst mistake of my life. I was furious, and we argued for weeks. But in the end, I wasn't mad for as long as Yakov was. I wore the ears and accepted them as just another part of what I had to do to maintain a pristine public image. I just didn't get it. To be honest, I didn't understand it for a very long time. I was always so glad to be past that part of my life, beyond the worries. I never thought any differently. Not until I met you," Victor said.   
  
"I don't get it," Yuuri said.   
  
Victor kissed his temple. "I lost them to another, but I wish I could have given them to you, Yuuri. I wish it could have been something we shared. You might not have been my first time, but you were my first love. And I feel like I'm less because I didn't wait. I jumped into things without thinking, just like I always do."   
  
"But it worked out in the end," Yuuri said. He took the box into his hands and pressed a kiss to Victor's fingers. "All I care about is that we're together now."   
  
Victor smiled. "You know. I still have them."   
  
"Here?" Yuuri asked, glancing around the St. Petersburg apartment. He almost didn't dare to get his hopes up. But then Victor nodded. "C-can I see?"   
  
Victor spun Yuuri around. "Of course, moya lyubov. Of course."   
  
Victor searched through the storage room and eventually came back with the box of fakes. Inside were two large, pointed, silvery-blue ears, the fur realistic and short. The tail curled between them rather like a feather boa. Victor pinned the tail to the back of his jeans and grinned.   
  
"Well?" He wagged his hips, showing off the tail. "How does it look?”

Yuuri laughed and pinned the ears to Victor’s head, arranging the hair neatly around it to hide where the clips connected. Victor pinned up Yuuri’s ears, the way he had for the weeks they had kept the secret. Yuuri clipped his own tail on.

Reece had been right, after all. The fake tail was an absolutely perfect replica of Yuuri’s tail. The little tuft’s texture had the same softness to it, the same short upward curve. Yuuri stretched up on his toes, pressing his lips to Victor’s.

“Look at us,” Yuuri laughed. They were like children again, innocent and unknowing.

“Mmm, look at us,” Victor echoed. They swayed to the soft music playing through the speakers. They both closed their eyes and slipped into a soft silence. “I never want this moment to end.”

Yuuri gently agreed. Victor with his ears was stunning, and Yuuri could begin to understand why Victor had seen the act of taking Yuuri’s as something so precious. When Yuuri saw Victor like this, it triggered something quiet and primal, something that wanted to protect and coddle and coo. It was instinct. Having ears was a sign of youthful innocence, and it made Victor seem years younger, almost excessively so.

He was pretty like the ethereal youth of Yuuri’s childhood, the Victor who had yet to cut off his hair, widen through the shoulders, and shoot up four inches. Yuuri loved Victor with his ears.

But, at the same time, Yuuri just couldn’t wait to take them off.

* * *

Yuuri could usually tell the tabloid reporters from the sports reporters by the questions they asked. Some, like Morooka, could just get away with asking anything.   
  
Yuuri allowed him the only private interview, Victor by his side. They'd returned to Hasetsu for a few days, and the offer had come up frequently. Other networks offered enormous sums of money for exclusives, but Yuuri and Victor wanted to control the tide of information a little better than that, at least for now.   
  
"But we should definitely do it after the plan is over," Victor said. "I want to see you on the cover of People magazine. What do you think?"   
  
"I won't make the cover, and you'll be there too," Yuuri shot back.   
  
Victor shook his head. "Two beautiful skaters, an international fling, and a gold medal at Worlds? They're begging for wedding pictures already. You'll be on the cover. I'll even hang it in the house!"   
  
"Absolutely not!"   
  
Morooka was thrilled by the interview, although his sports roots showed in his focus toward skating questions.   
  
"So, what are your plans for next season? You were vague after Worlds. Can we expect the two of you to keep challenging Russia's Grand Prix Final gold medalist, Yuri Plisetsky?"   
  
Victor laughed fondly. "Yurio isn't happy unless he's being challenged. But Yuuri doesn't like to lose either."   
  
He smiled sideways at Yuuri, who chuckled a bit himself. "No, I can't say I do. Yurio is a strong competitor, and a good friend, too. I'll definitely be back next season, so he better stay on his toes!"   
  
"How about you, Victor," Morooka asked. "Willing to share any secrets with us?" Victor’s smile was both knowing and mysterious.   
  
Yuuri leaned forward. "He won't even tell me!" he said, with warm exasperation and a smile. He glanced back at Victor. "He's planning something. I don't know if I should be worried myself."   
  
Victor wrapped his arms around Yuuri like a handsome silver octopus, laughing delightedly. "Nothing to worry about, love. I just have some records I'd like back..."   
  
"If you can take them," Yuuri retorted.   
  
"Which performance from last season would you say you liked best of Victor's?" Morooka said to Yuuri.   
  
Yuuri had to think about that one. "They're both wonderful in their own ways. 'So This is Love' is something we considered briefly for another exhibition pair skate down the road, but I think it was better like this. The story is different skating alone than with someone else. It goes from a slow fall into love and turns it into a pining, adoring feeling. But 'Life and Love' always makes me cry," Yuuri laughed. "I would say 'Life and Love', probably. Because Phichit ruined the short program song for me."   
  
"Yuu-rella," Victor laughed. "Hey, Yuuri, can we do your next exhibition piece to more princess songs?"   
  
"Only if you wear the dress," Yuuri muttered mutinously. Victor was still smiling. "Oh no, you're considering it."   
  
All three laughed. It was the slightly canned, slightly forced interview laughter, but it had a bit of genuine joy.   
  
"I don't like prying into your business, so feel free to skip this question if you'd rather, but everyone does want to know. Why the fake ears?"   
  
"Why? Not when?" Yuuri asked, a little surprised. It was a question he had expected, but not so soon. "I guess the reason is because... well, it's nobody's business when the real ears went. Victor and I made this decision for us, not because the ears needed to go, but because they were something I wanted to give to Victor on my own terms. And I think people forget that. They get caught up in wanting to be adults so bad, they never think what it would be like to let the world keep thinking one thing, when the opposite is true."   
  
Victor squeezed Yuuri close, and they didn't separate the rest of the interview.   
  
It was translated to a dozen different languages after the fact, with varying degrees of accuracy. But Yuuri wasn't done yet.   
  
One last question remained: what would they do if they ever met their true named soulmates?   
  
Yuuri and Victor kept their true names quiet at first because names were a powerful thing. People thought a lot about what they meant. It changed how people perceived each other.   
  
While a name like History Makers was definitely a positive one, one with a certain amount of prophecy to it, it lost its punch if the whole world knew before hand.   
  
It would probably be, Victor explained, a better impact if they told the world after history had already been made. That had been before the Cup of China. Before Yuuri could have ever imagined even brushing against history, let alone making it.   
  
Back then, Yuuri eagerly accepted, because the world wasn't ready to see Victor tied to Yuuri so concretely, and Yuuri wasn't ready to give the world false expectations.   
  
Of course, that was before he set a new world record in the free skate, before he took gold at worlds, and before he could make plans to marry the love of his life.

* * *

It started on Twitter.   
  
Phichit posted a picture of him and Yuuri strutting through the streets of Bangkok, just the two of them.   
  
Another picture a few hours later showed Phichit and Yuuri eating lunch. Phichit posted the food pictures to Instagram along with a geotag and a laundry list of hashtag descriptors, and that was that.   
  
It didn't receive a lot of outside attention, because that was what Phichit always did. What did catch attention was one post in particular, two hours after the lunch pictures, with a certain announcement.   
  
Yuuri had found his soulmate. Yuuri, who didn't often post to his own Twitter, commented that it wasn't a big deal, and asked for people to stop freaking out. He would discuss it with Victor when he got home.   
  
A week later, while Yuuri was packing up to fly back to St. Petersburg, Victor posted to his own Twitter, 'I think I found my soulmate? 

The reaction was immediate, and everything the internet could have dared to fear.

The Victuuri blogs were in anarchy, at each other's throats in a bitter fight over what would end up happening. Some were supportive of the two as separate people, free to be with whoever they pleased. Obviously the two would stay friends. Other blogs went ballistic, insisting that no one could ever be as perfect for anyone else as those two were for each other, and they were damned fools to give it up just because fate said so.

People asked after their true names, but neither was willing to reveal it. Some people wondered if it was a hoax for publicity. Phichit confirmed he had seen it.   
  
Yurio gagged during an interview. "Um, yes, I've seen those asshole's names. Victor is a goddamn menace about it. Next question. I'm not talking about those idiots during my interview."   
  
Chris posted a short video to his fans. "Looks like trouble in paradise," he said mysteriously, panning over to Victor and Yuuri quietly bickering in the distance, too far away to be overheard.   
  
Yuuri's unused Twitter finally saw use in the war to end all Twitter wars.   
  
It started with poking little public comments.   
  
V-Nikiforov: you're just jealous because I got the better soul mate #blessed #perfection

Katsuki-Yuu: yeah, no way. My soul mate is far more attractive than yours

V-Nikiforov: you take that back. Mine makes the whole world stop. #thoseeyes #datass

Katsuki-Yuu: and my soulmate is soooo tall  
  
V-Nikiforov: he's not taller than me   
  
Katsuki-Yuu: so what.   
  
V-Nikiforov: and my soulmate has earned Makkachin's seal of approval   
  
Katsuki-Yuu: what, she doesn't hide their socks?   
  
V-Nikiforov: not even once. #theperfectman

This was Phichit's idea. Of course. Phichit gleefully fanned the flames. He would hop between them, being the most evil devil's advocate known to man.   
  
Phichit-Chu: 'hey @Katsuki-Yuu, aren't you exaggerating the perfect hair a little? I mean, that hair line has got to be receding'   
  
Phichit-Chu: 'I think I saw your soulmate pole-dancing, @V-Nikiforov. You sure you can handle all that?'   
  
Fans of Victor viciously supported him. Yuuri's fans became brutally loyal. Lines were drawn. It was escalating. And then suddenly, right before anything bad could actually happen, Victor and Yuuri stopped.   
  
No more posts. Nothing from Phichit, either. The entire matter simply... stopped.   
  
Assumptions were made. Nondisclosure agreements, they thought, or reconciliation, or any manner of things could have caused it all to come crashing into silence.   
  
The first competition of the new season was fast approaching. People wondered if Victor would still coach Yuuri, if the engagement was still on. No news escaped the rink in St. Petersburg.   
  
Both men landed assignments in Skate Canada. Victor took a spot in the Rostelecom Cup, and Yuuri netted a place in the NHK Trophy.   
  
Victor and Yuuri kept their national jackets on for most of the competition. They warmed up separately. Victor took one hall, moving his arms in the familiar motions of his new program. Yuuri claimed another, stretching out his muscles with a firmly set expression of pure focus.   
  
The distance was noticed, but so were the gold rings on their fingers. Yuuri’s was different than before, and Victor wasn't wearing one at all.

Yuuri skated before Victor. Victor paused in his warm up to lean against the rink barrier. Yuuri shrugged out of his Japan jacket and left it on the wall. A collective mutter started.   
  
Yuuri's costume was a rich, dark green suit, flecked with gold throughout. It was an attractive enough costume. But the best of it was the broad, open back of it, exposing the words laid out along the bottom of Yuuri's spine.   
  
Yuuri skated beautifully, forging history in every spin, every jump. He sang his love for all of skating, but his love for his family and his soulmate too.   
  
Phichit was egging the Internet on, excitedly chattering about the true name to his followers. He even posted a better picture of it, a cropped image of Yuuri lying on his stomach on the beach beside someone.   
  
History Makers. Truly a beautiful name, unique and golden and bright. Yuuri took his scores alone, because Victor was making slow rings around the ice with his jacket still on.   
  
Victor grabbed a quick drink of water, smiled at Yakov, and shrugged his jacket off as well, turning his back to his coach, coincidentally hiding it from view. Underneath the Team Russia jacket was a rose pink suit, glittering with complementary gold details. The similarities to Yuuri's were unmistakeable. He slipped something into the third finger of his right hand with a small gesture.

Victor pushed away from the edge of the rink, and finally the expanse of open back was exposed, the way Yuuri's had been. There was a stutter in the commentary. The crowd went still in a simultaneous gasp of shock.

The smile on Victor's face was absolutely sinful, so full of love and devilish glee as he winked at Yuuri from across the rink. Yuuri blew a kiss from the Kiss and Cry, and Victor jumped a single axel to catch it, laughing all the while like a lovesick fool.   
  
He settled in the middle of the ice to skate once more.   
  
Phichit posted a better version of the last picture. One that wasn't cropped, and showed the entire expanse of the beach. Victor and Yuuri, dressed in swim trunks and laying out on the sand, showed off the name glittering on their backs in the light of the setting sun. They leaned their heads against each other, affectionate and sweet, their fingers laced and their shoulders and foreheads touching. Their new rings sparkled in the light.   
  
In the sand beside them, a little pennant flag bore two little words:   
  
Just Married.   
  
Victor and Yuuri sat together for the announcement of Victor's score.   
  
The crushing defeat two years ago. The 24 years Yuuri had spent with his ears. The months of agonizing over who he shared a name like this with.   
  
To think his idol could have turned everything around so much. It was incredible to think. And yet, when Yuuri looked into Victor's eyes, he knew he meant just as much to Victor. That their worlds had been empty and alone before meeting, that everything seemed to be colored in shades of grey.   
  
Together, now, everything was golden bright.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing the first scene gave me some ideas for another work I could do in this universe. It's pretty tempting, honestly, so keep an eye out for a possible sequel if that's something that might be relevant to your interests. 
> 
> And really, thanks, always, for all of the comments, kudos, and everything else. I appreciate it a lot.


End file.
